Hey, hey. I was trying to sleep. What's all the snapping of pictures? What's the deal here? At least give me a chance to stretch and yawn.
Oh, you're from yuma? You're a foreigner, eh? Well, you got any room in that backpack? I wouldn't mind getting to know the United States. Just a visit, you know? I'll bet the puppies there get lots of treats...
This is my good side. What am I saying? My other side is just as good. Maybe even better. I'm pretty cute, don't you think?
P.S. A Cuban woman said in this December post that stray dogs had invaded Alamar. She wrote:
OK, here's where I live. Pick me up here night or day, it doesn't matter. Just stop by this apartment building in Alamar.
At one time dogs were not permitted in the apartments, but little by little they began to filter in...
There’s also a dog cemetery. There’s no cemetery in Alamar for humans, but there is one that began with “Trompy” and that now over ten tombstones of those fortunate animals that enjoyed a family’s love.
I walk down the streets and the dogs are there in the bread line, in the shade of a tree, sleeping in gardens, trying to find shelter in a food kiosk, or merely waiting. They look into your eyes to communicate their sorrow. What are they waiting for?