Music and street dogs

I stood barefoot on the cement of the roof, watching the sun play with the prayer flags, sacred cloth drifting like dancers in the evening breeze. My ukulele was slung across my shoulders and I turned, pulled toward the sound of music. Jennifer played a metal bucket, drumming to Izac’s guitar as Anna curled up with pen and paper. As the sun set, it felt like we tossed music notes like drops of fire outward into the valley, street dogs singing their acceptance.

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This was last night. This morning, I met Anna for yoga on the roof, then we walked to a cafe to work on assignments for class. On the way, we walked by the alley where I’d found the brown-and-black puppy. Under a nearby gate we saw a pile of wriggling bodies. A young boy was calling to them, and we sat next to him, saying Hello. He grinned at us and jumped up, darting around the corner. Soon he reappeared, snatching one puppy then another from the pile, pushing them toward us. I laughed as the puppies, sleep evident in their faces, perked up and hopped toward us.

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A young nun walked up to us, squatted down, and pulled a ceramic bowl toward her. She took a bottle of milk out of her bag. “Cow’s milk,” she told us, and motioned for me to pour some of my water into the bowl as she poured milk. As soon as we did this, puppies leapfrogged over each other to reach the milk, each settling in a spot around the bowl.

We spent a while with the puppies and their mothers ~ we found two moms.

Basically, I’m in love with the life here, and the way local people take care of animals in small ways. All it takes is a little thought, a little action. This is love. dscn0186

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