No Pets Allowed

Several months ago a woman called asking if we allow dogs. Well, we might, depending on what kind. This policy hasn’t been established yet. I can see why it wouldn’t work out, but we like pets. We have a big dog who tends to get excited when someone approaches his porch. Especially if there is food in his bowl. Also his brother, who belongs to a neighbor, spends most of his time here. Together their passion, other than guiding people to Playa Chiquita, is building and maintaining street rep. This means that they urinate on as much as possible in the area including idling cars, bikes. And, sometimes, they fight. The woman said the dog was a nice indoor poodle, that there shouldn’t be any problems. Okay, if you’re willing to risk it then so am I. We can use the business.

When faced with the indoor poodle Cody and his brother Drake sniffed curiously and laid back down. No threat. No excitement. Better to save energy for re-marking all the spots from the previous night, maybe see if Sparticus and Buenos Dias down the road want to brawl, or if Domer has any plans. The first night went smoothly.

The second night the couple came into the reception around 9pm to say that they would be going out to dinner, leaving Nelson in the bungalow. Sure, no problem. As soon as we hear their car pull away Nelson works himself into an indoor poodle tizzy and starts yapping his face off. Uh oh. We aren’t sure what do if this doesn’t stop. You can’t have a poodle yapping in one bungalow with people trying to sleep next door. It’s already 9pm so there’s no way the couple will eat and be back before at least 11pm. I want to crush up an antihistamine, put it in some left over food, put Nelson’s ass to sleep. I’m tired myself, don’t want to wait up with Nelson, the indoor poodle, until the owners get back. We can’t decide what to do. Uh oh, here comes a guest, Hank, father of a 1-year-old, with his shirt off, sleep in his eyes. Can you do something about that dog? Yes, Hank. Something must be done.

It never even occurred to me that Nelson might be upset about some stranger coming in to the bungalow. I was picturing a wagging tail, a quick trip to the reception, maybe a little over-the-counter cocktail for Nelson and bed for me. When I opened the door Nelson took one look, jumped up on the bed and raised the volume on that yap. I started to talk him down. It’s okay, we’re just going to take a little trip, wait for mummy and daddy to get home. He sat, yapping, allowed me to touch his head. It’s okay, buddy we’re just going to take a little trip. YAP, YAP, YAP YAP YAP. He wasn’t really calming down, so it seemed the only way to get him out would be to grab him by the scruff of the neck. I went for it. He snapped. Nelson, you scoundrel, you tried to bite me. Hank has to be wondering what’s taking so long at this point. Nelson is clearly upset and I’m realizing that it’s all or nothing. I tell Nelson a little bit more about the plan, touch his head, grab him by the neck with both hands and scoop him up. He manages to get in a few bites on my forearm, makes an insane death cry, pees all over the bed and me.

I make it out of the bungalow where Cody, Drake and Hank are waiting. Did he bite you? He bit and peed, but there’s no blood. I’ll keep him quiet. Angie waits in the reception house wondering what that sound was. I tell her that the bastard bit me and let the bastard go thinking that he would stay put fearing what lies beyond. Clearly I do not understand the indoor poodle. Nelson makes a break for it immediately. Out into the jungle. At first he heads to the road. Great. How will we explain that we lost their yapping dog? He quickly realizes that there are any number of things that would make him dinner and returns to the bungalow. I head back with rope this time. Nelson doesn’t feel so brave on the porch, is staying low profile, not yapping. I talk to him for a while longer, mention that he should not have bit me, throw a noose around him and take him to the reception. Luckily his owners came back around 10:30pm. They saw Nelson tied to the chair and began to apologize. I guess you won’t be allowing pets anymore? No pets allowed.

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4 Responses to “No Pets Allowed”

  1. Nicholas says:

    Hilarious!!-branderson

  2. Erin says:

    oh come on, a few Mexican chihuahas, some Cuban Havanese, some of the famous mutts from Montezume – you guys have such a sense of humour – you’ve braved, floods, earthquakes, jungles, howler monkeys (i’m sure they’ve thrown some @#$% at your heads by now), snakes, scorpions, army ants and all of the natural (dangerous) beauty, creatures and acts of God within your brief time there – and you’re going to let a damn POODLE get you? oh, Brendan, what has happened to you since you left. I mean, you even braved Washington politicos? HAHAHA! Love, Erin

  3. Erin says:

    I meant to say “oh come on, you need a few Mexican chihuahas, some Cuban Havanese, some of the famous mutts from Montezuma to toughen you up!

    You guys have such a sense of humour – you’ve braved, floods, earthquakes, jungles, howler monkeys (i’m sure they’ve thrown some @#$% at your heads by now), snakes, scorpions, army ants and all of the natural (dangerous) beauty, creatures and acts of God within your brief time there – and you’re going to let a damn POODLE get you? oh, Brendan, what has happened to you since you left. I mean, you even braved Washington politicos? HAHAHA! Love, Erin

  4. papa sime says:

    aahahahha oh man!!

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