Street Dogs...

Street dogs in Columbia really know how to work a crowd. Savvy, cautious, independent survivors, thin but not starving. They live an unfettered life marked by handouts from the passing crowd and deep sleep on a sunlit stoop. I bought a bag of fresh rolls, just for them. A large, shaggy Shepherd mix approached me openly as I waved a bun and called out to him. Taking it immediately into his mouth, he promptly spit it back out, staring at it on the ground as if daring it move. I picked it up and offered it again, he took it and spit it out. Given the number of mom & pop bread shops that are so common on every street, I realized that bread must be the most frequent donation the canine beggars get. This guy wanted something more substantial, egg, meat, cheese... Some kind of protein. Please, enough with the bread already! He wandered away. Four more dogs came and went, all rejecting the bread. None appeared to be starving, all just working the procession of bodies as they walked up and down the narrow street. The dogs were pros, particular about just what kind of donations they would take.

Back at home, Carla and I had a late lunch on St George Street, the main pedestrian drag for tourists visiting St Augustine. As we walked back to our car, maneuvering slowly through the crowd, Styrofoam leftovers in hand, I spotted a familiar homeless guy lounging on a sunlit stoop by the Coquina wall of the “Oldest Schoolhouse in the USA”. He's a regular at that spot, living off the generosity of the passing parade. I realized that since I hadn't touched my Shrimp dinner, it would be a special meal for the homeless guy, lying with his head propped up on one elbow. “Would you like a nice shrimp dinner? I haven't touched it!” Looking a bit like that shaggy Shepherd mix who spit out the bun, and without taking the Styrofoam from my outstretched hand, the homeless guy looked up at me and asked: “How was it prepared?” The guy is a pro, particular about just what kind of donation he would take.