Lucy was a street rescue who wriggled and squirmed her way into our hearts back in 1996. In Tlaquepaque, Mexico, this flea bitten, very pregnant creature came up to us at dinner and started begging food. Patti, my partner and unapologetic dog lover, gave her basically all of her chicken mole. So, this little imp starts following us around. Patti, who at this time spoke little Spanish, asked me, nay, made me, ask the street vendors if she belonged to anyone. With my "I don't believe I'm doing this face", I was laughed at by every street vendor in Tlaqupaque. However, at this point I did learn how this dog developed a life long aversion to brooms.

As we ditch her, at my insistence, Patti starts the "you know we could take her home" and "maybe she's not pregnant, she might just have worms." rap. The next day, the line is "Well, let's just see if she's still there". Well, sure enough, there she is on top of the same table at the Parian, licking whatever crumbs were left over from breakfast. As I hang my head with a "sigh", Patti suggests that we at least take her to a vet. So with big mesh, Mexican shopping bag in hand, we put this creature in it and board a bus for Plaza del Sol to find a vet. This dog has spent her life running from buses and now she is on one of these rickety, stop and go, noisy contraptions. You could say she was in the canine version of "freaked out."

We arrive at the vet's office and he answers the questions that I provide as an interpreter "She is about a year old". "Yes, she is very pregnant". "Yes, I can kennel her a few days." "Yes, I can give you the inoculations and paperwork necessary to take her back to the states." With my head slowly banging on the wall, we have a dog.

Fast forward 10 years. Lucy, named for the Spanish word for "light"; has had her 4 puppies (four days after we got back) and I've turned from the Grinch into the most stupid person in the world over this dog. She's become "Daddy's Little Girl" and I've never loved an animal more. She still climbs on the dinner table when we aren't looking and she is still freaked out by brooms. She is the classic example of the axiom "Move towards what repels you."

Last July, after a mild illness, she had a sudden heart attack and left us. It so happened that I was going back to Tlaquepaque to buy a load of Mexican crafts two weeks from the day she died. We had her cremated and I took some of her ashes back to the very place we found her 10 years prior. With a copa of Don Julio and a prayer of thanks, I spread her ashes in a plant just by the table. (ssssh. Don't tell anyone.)

Well, if you have made it this far, there's another cool twist to this story. Indulge me.

Last month, Patti found the original papers the vet signed in Guadalajara in 1996 and gave them to me. I kept them around the office because...well..I didn't know what else to do with them. As I am researching patron saints for personalized ex-voto's I come across St Roch, Patron Saint of Dogs. I check his Saint's Day. It's August 16th. Something taps on the back door of my cranium and I take out the paperwork that Patti gave to me last month. I check the date that the vet signed off on the papers:
August 16th, 1996.

So, allow a little magic in your life. If you can't rescue a dog like Lucy, please give to an organization that can for someone else.

Thank you,

Will Forest
Patron