This place is un pueblo de perros: a town filled with dogs.
I’ve seen the occasional frightened cat.
But it’s the dogs that rule this place.
You can’t walk anywhere without a dog greeting you along the way.
Small dogs are popular here in town, as they are throughout Mexico. Chihuahua is the name of a state in Mexico, after all.
But you find all shapes and sizes.
I’ve seen a few people out walking their dogs with a leash, but they’re usually American or Canadian retirees. The reason you don’t see any owners with the dogs in these photos is not because I cropped them out of the picture, but because they’re not there. These dogs are all running loose.
The ones that really get you are up the the roof, who don’t bark until you’re right underneath them.
There was one little puppy in the lot next door, whom the kids got to know. He would run over to the fence whenever we walked by, tail wagging furiously. Then one day he was gone.
Of course, having dogs everywhere also means you have to watch your step.
The day after Election Day, I was walking home from dropping the kids at school. News of Trump’s big win engrossed me as I read news and analysis on my phone while I walked home. For the next couple of hours, I kept getting a whiff of foul odor, and thought I was having a visceral reaction to the election.
Nope. I had just stepped in some dog poop, and tracked it all over the house. Thanks, Trump.