The forest claims its own.

I am very sad this morning. My dog Shakira died. She was ten years old and the mother of innumerable litters. I say my dog but really she belonged to the forest. I should explain that all the dogs at Cañaote are semi wild. They come to the house at mealtimes and stay in the locality of the house at night. They are excellent guard dogs. They bark furiously at any intruder. They are certainly not lap dogs. All of them, without exception are her children. We have six dogs and as of yesterday eight puppies, Shakira’s grandchildren. The wildness is good in a sense because the dogs are free to roam the forest and mountain like their ancestors but bad in that it is impossible to get close enough to treat them when they are sick. Although there has always been a special relationship between me and Shakira, it is only recently that she would allow me to stroke her. She disappeared over a week ago, returning last night thin, weak and ill. She allowed me to treat her but it was all too little and too late. My beautiful Shakira returns to her forest for the last time.