Street Dogs

The dogs of Chile are an endless source of fascination for me. What do they do all day? Where do they go at night? Why are they all so seemingly well behaved and not interested in people? Are they pets, or strays, or something in between? These silent sentries of the city roam the streets, usually solo, occasionally in pairs but rarely with a close association to one another. They sleep curled up on the sidewalk, sprawled out in the squares and pedestrian thorough fares, unmindful of the thousands of pairs of feet passing within inches of their prone bodies, too busy basking in the sun to notice. There are at least a handful of canines on every block, and while some are clearly garbage hounds, others are decked out in shirts and scarves, but running just as free as their mangy brethren. The dogs do not beg, they are not rude or aggressive, they just calmly go about their days, the city streets belonging as much to them as any of the bipedal pedestrians.

The dogs obey the traffic laws. They sit and wait for the little man to turn green, and briskly cross the street with the throngs of people. Some claim to have seen a solo dog wait for the light to change and then proceed to cross an avenue by himself.

This evening there was a dog, waiting at the crosswalk. When the light changed he became excited, but made no move to cross to the other side. We wondered if this dog didn’t quite understand the system, but then an older man, wheeling his wares to set up on the street corner (probably consisting of TV antennas and chocolate bars, which seems de rigur for the neighborhood) arrived on our side of the street and the scruffy poi dog greeted him happily and followed him into the crowded sidewalk. Is this a daily ritual? Does the dog follow the man home at night? Does the man even feed the dog, or make sure he is sheltered when it is cold out? Or is it just another city friendship, two old pals meeting up as usual, an unspoken commitment between equals?