Spanish people around here say I am not local and that I am a mountain dog because I am big and furry. I don’t know whether they mean that I come from the mountains or that my breed comes from the mountains in the past.
But most people seem to be in agreement that whoever I lived with didn’t come from around here or they would all know who I was. And that my previous owners must have driven quite a way to drop me off in the countryside so I couldn’t find my way home.
That seems to happen quite a bit here. People drive through and in a quiet street or a country lane, they chuck a dog out of the car, and then they drive off.
And we have to find our food, water and shelter. Quite a few people throw bread out for us stray dogs, but it does get a bit tedious chomping through hard bread. And it doesn’t exactly keep body and soul together too well in the middle of winter. Some of the smaller dogs are quite lucky and get taken in quickly, but us big ones don’t seem to be wanted.
Master and mistress know some kind English neighbours and she used to feed me. She always carries dog biscuits even though she doesn’t have a dog (she used to have some dachsunds).
I saw her the other day and jumped up to give her a big hug – but she didn’t have any biscuits.
Anyway, I pretended I wasn’t disappointed because I am sure she will have some next time.
Some of the other kind Spanish women used to throw me some food too when I was on the streets, and they still come and say hello now. But lots didn’t.
When I found master and mistress they thought I might have been a cross Alsatian, or part Husky. But I don’t have blue eyes, I do bark, and I don’t have a German Shepherd build or temperament. Although the colouring looks similar to a GSD on my body. My face is much lighter though.
I like other animals too. I go to say hello to the horses and donkeys at the stables over the road. I am not interested in chasing goats or sheep. I like to chase cats and rats of course, but they are not livestock. So I must be a mix of some sort of sheepdog/livestock guardian.
After a while master and mistress told me I needed to go and get some papers, and have some injections and a microchip so everyone would know who I was and where I lived.
Mistress was very worried in case I already had a chip. She didn’t want anyone to take me away from her and master after they had looked after me and cared for me and made me better. Master thought it was very unlikely, most of our neighbours certainly don’t pay for chips, jabs and papers.
So one day, master and I went for a nice long walk into the nearest town and went to see a nice person called a vet. He checked to see if I already had a chip, and I didn’t so then he put one in for me. He told us it would hurt a bit and I yelped, but I didn’t blame master. Everyone told me how brave I was and stroked me and gave me treats. I’m not sure I want to rush back though.
Master had the money ready, but he wanted me to have my very own passport as well as the jabs and chip. So it cost twice as much as he had originally been told. Mistress is usually very mean with the money but she had made sure he had plenty that day so master could pay for my passport too.
Because I have my passport I have been to a different country already. Before Christmas we went to Gibraltar, which is not too far away. I am so important that everyone wanted to see my passport and they were not interested in master and mistress at all. Perhaps it is because they are British and I am Spanish. I hope we go again.