Isla Mujeres Mystery ~ Lynda L. Lock
Dreaming in paradise
He’s an old, slightly arthritic, black dog snoozing in the sunshine under a rickety red table: dreaming.  His feet twitch, and his eyelids flutter as he relives his younger years.

He dreams of racing with his neighbourhood pals along the white sand beaches, dashing into the rolling surf to retrieve a floating coconut, tussling with his friends over possession of a stick.  

Summer camp for pooches

On hot summer days there were always plenty of neighbours who would play with him.  

The humans liked to wade in the warm ocean, splashing and laughing – willing to toss a stick for him to retrieve, again and again. 

Tiny but tough!

Sometimes when he was younger he would roam the nearby neighbourhoods looking for a girlfriend or two.  As he tramped up and down the streets he occasionally met up with other male dogs who didn’t want him trespassing on their territory.  

Scuffles ensued and one or the other of the dogs would suffer a tattered ear or a bitten neck.  No matter.  He’d shake it off and head back home to lick his wounds. 

“Maybe I can find a treat here …”
Occasionally when he explored the island he would nose out a tasty treat near a taco stand, something dropped by a customer, or perhaps left in an unsecured garbage can.  Even following food vendors could be like winning a lottery.  As the vendors stopped to sell their goodies, tidbits might escape and fall to the ground.  Bonus!  He wasn’t starving, but different foods were always a welcome change from the normal dry dog kibble provided by his humans.

Stay out of my territory!
He was so much luckier, he thought, than the rooftop dogs, the ones that were confined to the upper level of a house, unable to run free.  

He loved to torment them by strutting past, tail in the air: look at me.  I’m walking in your neighbourhood.  I’m checking your garbage cans for treats.  And I’m romancing your ladies.  

Tony Garcia photo credit
The rooftop dogs would bark and growl in frustration unable to reach him, unable to teach him a lesson about trespassing.  

This was the best game ever!  Even better than chasing cats and iguanas.  

Although he thought that riding on a moto-scooter, like a few of his luckier friends were allowed to do, would be the very best adventure.  

He would stand nice and tall with his paws on the handlebars, and pretend he was steering the motorbike.  Awesome.

Cuban refugee boat – providing shade for a friend

Then he was dreaming of another late night adventure a few years ago when a strange boat landed on the beach in front of his house.  A group of twenty people scrambled off tossing aside unwanted clothing and food items.  

Early in the morning a number of navy Marines and the municipal police arrived to check the boat.  Someone mentioned Cuban refugees.  

He had no idea what that meant but he and his friends thought that Christmas had arrived, as they nosed around in the castoffs for soggy crackers and discarded packaged foods.  Living near the beach was always interesting.

Home Sweet Home
As he snoozed in the sunshine a noisy group of tourists stopped in front of his resting place, exclaiming over the beautiful shells and trinkets that his humans had for sale.  

Yawning, he stretched and slowly ambled out from under the table. 

Ah well, I might as well get up and be friendly, wag my tail a time or two.  Maybe I can earn my kibble by convincing the tourists to buy a few more shells. 

Hasta Luego
Lawrie & Lynda

Apologies to the pooch and his people for fictionalizing his life.  He was an interesting looking dog that I wanted to write about.

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