by Dr. David Fialkoff, Editor / Publisher

I'm pet-sitting here again in colonia Allende. Yasna, of the second floor, who is the chief caretaker of Canela, the perfect dog, left to take care of her parents in Chile three months ago and will be there for another three months to come. Veronica, of the first floor, the chief caretaker of Wuichol, the perfect cat (and in Yasna's absence of both pets), is representing Mexico at a Waldorf conference in Bogota, Columbia. I took over 11 days ago and have another five to go, no matter how things turn out.

"The dog is sick and the cat is blind" sounds like a country music lyric to me, but it pretty much sums things up here. The cat, not entirely sightless, aside from bumping into things now and then, gets around pretty well inside and out. This includes visiting his usual outdoors haunts when the patio door is left open, and finding his way back. Last week I wrote about not wanting wild cats in my life. Wuichol has depth of personality.

Canela has had a skin allergy on and, mostly, off for months, for we've tried various homeopathic and herbal remedies. When she started licking the region of her teats, it was assumed that it itched her as well. The area became inflamed. There was some loss of skin. In the last month, plasma, a clear, thin liquid began leaking out, dripping. A friend who is a vet came to look. Veronica had a lot to do, including keeping the dog's bed clothes fresh, which was especially difficult regarding line-drying them with all the rain.

After a few days of taking charge here, I blew the whistle. This was not only an allergy. There was, and there still is, a large pouch, a sack hanging down from her belly, with some sort of tumor inside. Canela and I went to Pet Vet. They recommended surgery to remove all the mammary glands on one side. When I sent her a photo, Vero's friend, the vet, was surprised at how quickly it's grown (a bad sign). Veronica wants to be back home before the surgery (and I don't want to be primarily responsible for an aged, post-surgical dog), and then there is the question of money. A medical doctor acquaintance of mine, whom I met twice recently walking the dog told me of another option, "a very good vet, who charges Mexican, not gringo prices."

Veronica, a rock, confident and completely reliable, is deservedly enjoying her working vacation in Bogota. She is ready to jump into the fray on her return, but what can she do from Colombia? Yasna is understandably upset. She is a very good person, and I am happy to be supporting her in this, her time of distress. But some of her efforts, messaging me at midnight, 3am her time to schedule next day appointments with vets, are unnecessary. There will be no surgery before Veronica gets back Tuesday.

Me, I'm here in the trenches, keeping things going, hygienic, if not quite clean. There are a mountain of details, including the clothes, frequently wet, that Vero designed for Canela to support the area, to keep the sanitary pads in place and to keep her from licking it... and all the home remedies. All of this is aimed at keeping Canela comfortable, giving her love. But it means that I went from working all the time at my house, to working all the time plus here.

And my feelings? Between holding Yasna's hand 3,000 miles away, and keeping everything on track, I don't have time for those. My emotional attachment to Canela is less than Veronica's or Yasna's, but it's still significant. Right now I'm happy if I can easily find where I put something down in the disorder that my moving in has caused (I don't travel lightly in these situations), get the clothes dry before the afternoon rains, and can keep up with my publishing schedule; the show must go on. My daughter, always a great help, sagaciously told me last night, "You were away and couldn't help save your cat. Now you have a chance to help the dog that you love."

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I graduated university in December of 1978. February found me on a Greyhound bus going out to the West Coast to explore naturopathic medical schools. August found me about to start school in beautiful Sonoma County, ten minutes from the ocean, under the Redwoods on the Russian River. One day at that time I was in San Francisco helping Richard Mann, a future classmate of mine, load the contents of his house into a U-Haul truck, going up and down the front stairs.

With that accomplished, we got into the cab of the truck and he told me, "I'm going to take you someplace special." We then drove across the Bay Bridge into Oakland to a very large field house, a place with a very high, domed ceiling, and a dirt floor, with an entirely open interior, where indoor sports are played. There, thousands and thousands of folding chairs were set up in preparation for the audience coming to hear the Dalai Lama speak. I had not heard of the Dalai Lama. At that time he was still speaking through a translator. The place filled up. Very tired from loading the U-Haul truck, I sat on a chair next to Richard and listened to His Eminence as best I could.

At one point, the Dalai Lama delivered what I later learned was a Buddhist adage. He said, "If there is a problem and there's something you can do about it, then there is no need to worry. And if there's a problem and there is nothing you can do about it, then there's also no need to worry."

Obviously not ready for such illumination, the last thing I remember, before I fell asleep on Richard's shoulder, was thinking to myself, "This guy has been up on the mountaintop too long. If there's a problem and there's something you can do about it, of course you don't worry. You do it. And if there's a problem and there's nothing you can do about it, then again, it's sad, but you don't worry. You only really worry when there's a problem and you don't know whether you can do anything about it.

Canela and Yasna
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I'm not sure how Canela, an old dog, will be after surgery, or if the tumor is malignant. But I take some comfort knowing that I am doing, that we are doing, all that can be done... I hope.

There is another buddhist saying, about putting one foot in front of the other, getting things done, "Before enlightenment: chopping wood and carrying water. After enlightenment: chopping wood and carrying water."

I need to get the laundry out to dry while there is still sun out, and get this article to my translator by midday.

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Dr. David Fialkoff presents Lokkal, our local social network, the community online and off, Atención robustly reborn for the digital age. If you can, please do contribute content, or your hard-earned cash, to support Lokkal, SMA's Voice. Use the orange, Paypal donate button below. Thank you.

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