Del Viento, dog
This is a story about doing something good.
This is a story of a determined little girl.
This is a story of a broken-tailed, bat-eared, goat-legged pup, born on the streets of Guaymas, Mexico.
This is the story of Frijolito Negro De La Calle, more often called Bean.
On a dusty street, in a busy Mexican town between the desert and the sea, lived a broken-tailed, bat-eared, goat-legged pup.
When he was hungry, which he always was, he ate a wind-blown tortilla chip or a scrap of something dropped and forgotten.
When he was thirsty, he drank from the car washer’s bucket.
When he was tired, he slept in the shade of a rusty blue truck.
At the tortillaria, the shopkeeper hissed, “¡Vas!” Go! and wielded her broom.
At the bus station, the buses surged, and roared, “¡VAAAAAAS!” GO!
At the tienda, an old woman paused with her bags of groceries and whispered, “Pobresito.” Poor little guy.
But mostly, he was invisible.
Frances liked to explore the dusty streets of Guaymas with her family.
She liked the icy paletas from the bicycle vendor.
She liked the steamy tacos from Julio’s stand.
She liked the crispy churros wrapped in paper.
She didn’t like seeing the broken-tailed, bat-eared, goat-legged pup.
To her, he was not invisible.
“Can we help him?” Frances said.
“I don’t know sweetheart,” said her mom.
“If we can help, we should help,” said Frances.
And so they did.
She fed him chicken and rice.
She washed him, thrice.
Dr. Franzoni said, “He’s too thin. Feed him more!” and gave him three shots.
“What shall we call him?” said Frances’s mom.
“Bean,” said Frances, “because he looks like a little black bean.”
And she placed a shiny green and blue collar around his neck with a big plastic heart on which she wrote, ¡Adoptarme! Adopt me!
And the paleta man said, “¡Que guapo!” How handsome!
And the security guard said, “¡Hola Frijolito!” Hello Little Bean!
And Frances said, “¡Sientate!” Sit! and “¡Abajo!” Down! and “¡Hablas!” Speak!
And Bean did.
Dominga was a woman with a strong white dog.
Dominga saw Bean with his broken tail and his big, big bat ears, and his long, long goat legs and his big plastic heart with the words, ¡Adoptarme! Adopt me! and she said, “¡Precioso!” How lovely!
The strong white dog said, “WOOF!” and Bean said, “woof” and they played and played and then Bean went for a sleepover at Dominga’s house.
And then another.
And then another.
And Frances said, “I will miss Bean.”
And her mom said, “I’m glad we helped.”
And Frances said, “Yo tambien.” Me too.
--WR
NOTE: This is a very simplified version of Bean’s time with us, written in children’s book form, absent illustrations. The point is that Eleanor and lots of other folks were heavily involved, not just Frances. Though certainly it’s Frances’s sentiment that carries great weight when it comes to this family helping animals. Also, Dr. Franzoni, a Sociedad Humanitario de La Paz (SHLP) boardmember, volunteered his time and resources in terms of getting Bean vaccinated and fixed and cared for.
Bean glowing in his new home!
In our twenties, we traded our boat for a house and our freedom for careers. In our thirties, we slumbered through the American dream. In our forties, we woke and traded our house for a boat and our careers for freedom. And here we are. Follow along at http://www.logofdelviento.blogspot.com/
