Perros

By Cameron
I have the utmost respect for the stray perros. These muts are survivors, a product of natural selection in the urban setting (see “The Lost Chronicles of Charles Darwin – Survival of the Filthiest”). They appear flee ridden and battered by the street life, but somehow the endearing qualities prevail. With the perfect combination of grit, perseverance, intelligence, and humility, these perros have adapted to life in the hood.
The idea is to stay fed at all costs, understanding of course that a desperate perro is a dead perro. Obnoxious or unruly perros do not elicit the empathy of human beings, and neither does a sickly perro. These are the likely victims of a “sweep” by the city police, whom perros recognize as a legitimate threat to their existence. Some are perro enough to stand up to the policia. It seems a foolish endeavor, though I suspect it has something to do with respect for fallen doggs. For example, on our second day in the city there was a noticeably happy perro lying under a tree in the park across from our hostel. If you walked by him, you would have thought “oh what a nice perro, I’ll give him the other half of this nasty empanada”, and deservedly so. Moments later when a police car passed through the intersection, this perro tore off after it as if too say, “Oye policia, soy el jefe!” The behavior continued each time a police vehicle passed by. Either this was a classic case of conditioning reminiscent of Pavlov’s Dogs, or he was one tough son of a…
As I get to know the city I realize that every strong perro has established turf. I see the same perros in the same places everyday, and each appears to have occupied a different niche. Some are the fortunate beneficiaries of conscientious local restaurant owners or street vendors (the perros often seen napping in the same place each day), others are garbage diggers or beggars. Though docile by day, they do not assume these roles passively. Every night we hear dog fights outside the window, as these street hounds establish and maintain the hierarchy of the hood, much like how a country dog plays with children all day or sleeps on the front stoop, only to tangle with packs of coyotes through the night. In Santiago, it is truly a “perro comer perro mundo”.
The funniest perros are the gringo watchers. They have an amazing knack for recognizing us. If gringos don’t already stand out enough in South America, the site of gringos being followed by perros will do the trick. I have heard stories about gringos adopting perros in the city, which is as simple as giving out two scraps of food per day. If lucky enough to find this type of gringo, a perro may wait outside the door day and night, and even follow the gringo to work. To exhibit loyalty, the perro may defend the gringo from Chileans, even if just for show. Fortunately we were able to witness this first hand. A couple of weeks ago, 20 of us TeachingChile gringos met Bruce Thompson, our program coordinator, to obtain Chilean ID cards. A perro had followed me and Debbie to the meeting spot early in the morning. We were eating muffins and drinking coffee while walking down the street, an easily recognizable gringo trait since Chileans rarely eat on the run. We met the rest of the group in a plaza, and the perro waited with all of us. At one point, a Chilean dressed in motorbike leathers walked through the empty plaza about 30 feet from the group. The perro went after him, barking and nipping at his legs. The guy actually had to swing his helmet at the mutt to keep him away. I turned to Debbie and said, “Are we blending?” There have numerous other incidents since where perros have latched on to us for extended walks, growling at Chileans who get too close.
We met our favorite perro last weekend on a TeachingChile weekend outing at the beach. We named him Porkrind (credit goes to Kevin). Porkrind met us when we stepped off the bus in El Tabo, and kindly escorted us to our beachfront cabanas in the pouring rain and dark. He is just a little guy (see photos), cute and clean enough to sucker the average gringo, yet tough enough to defend his BBQ pit. Patience was his virtue as he was more like a host than a beggar. When other, larger perros started to filter in, we figured little Pork-Rind would have to concede. The first fight broke out while dinner was cooking, and the initial reaction was to save little Porkrind, but within an instant he was on the back of the larger perro. Only a moment later the other perro was gone, as Porkrind wagged his tail at the BBQ pit amidst a large group of very proud gringos. This kind of behavior may not be encouraged or approved of by dog owners in the States, but here in Latin America we have come to understand the plight of the perro, where simply having an owner is every perro’s dream. Porkrind may never sleep in a human bed, wear a knitted sweater or enjoy the pleasure of watching a yuppie pick up his poo with a plastic glove, but he is king of El Tabo and we made sure he ate like one. We will miss you sweat Porkrind (sniff sniff). You stay classy.

… Flash forward one week. We learned from a friend who stayed an extra day in El Tabo that Porkrind actually belonged to the house next door. Well played Porkrind.