Reservoir Dog

Gorbachev

My host mom, Juana, has a small bear that she calls a dog. She's had him since he was a pup and she's pretty much the only person that he tolerates. Even her family won't go near him. If they come by the house and she has him tied up out front, they make her take him to the back porch before they'll come in. They call him: GORBACHEV, the Russian Bear. Okay, maybe not the Russian Bear part, but his name is Gorbachev. Don't ask me how he got that name because most Panamanians know as much about the previous political leaders of the Soviet Union as I do about nuclear fission. Anyway, he's got reddish blond fur, a nasty snarl, an even nastier bark, and he doesn't like anyone to get within 30 yards of the house except Juana. She gets a big kick out of everyone that comes by when Gorbachev is out front because they won't go near him. They just stand there and wait for Juana to remove him from the premises. She usually does this giggling to herself the whole time; to be honest, I think that she loves the fact that ol' Gorbachev doesn't like anyone but her. Actually her son-in-law told me a story the other day about how Gorbachev bit his hand one time. He won't go near him either. After a few weeks of being there all the time I figure he's getting used to me though. He doesn't bark at me all the time anymore-although he does still look at me as if to say “If Juana weren't here I'd rip your damn arms off you filthy peace corps gringo.”

Laundry Duty

I'm one of the few very fortunate PCV's to have a washing machine. Hold on there a minute chief; it's not as easy as in the states, but at least I'm not washing my clothes with a rock in a stream that people use as their personal toilet. And yes, this happens....often. First, I have to walk down to the bottom of the yard, open up the water line and fill the tank. Once the tank is full, I put a small pump inside and run an extension cord to my bedroom window. I disconnect the water line that's running to another tank located above the house and connect it with the line that runs to the back of the house. I then take the end of that water line and tie it to another tank on the back porch that is next to......the washing machine! Once the pump fills that tank, I take a bucket and start filling up the washing machine to do my laundry. BTW, all these water lines are just lying on the ground. It's not like they're gonna freeze and bust and if one breaks you don't have to go through the hassle of digging it up!

The Attack

Bad idea #1: I decide to do laundry. I begin the whole process and head to the back porch where Gorbachev is lying there like usual. He gives me that look at first and then after recognizing that I'm not going to rob the place, that I'm just washing my dirty underwear, he lays his head back down. I go about my business and at some point realize I need some hangers. Gorby's just lying there, so I figure rather than walk all the way around the house, I'll just step around him and go through the back door. This was bad idea #2. I raise my foot to step around him when suddenly he springs into action like a ferocious jack-in-the-box......maybe jack-in-the-box isn't such a good metaphor.......think evil jack-in-the-box........that's possessed........by something evil. He let's out a growl and grabs onto my foot like it's a dime store chew toy. I let out a holler as if I'm being mauled by a mountain lion and Juana comes a runnin. Gorbachev lets go when Juana arrives and gives him a scolding. He and I glare at one another, me saying “You stupid mutt! I've been here for a month! I'm in the PEACE CORPS for Pete's sake! I'm not gonna take anything!” and him saying “I told you not to mess with me you filthy peace corps gringo!” She asks if I'm ok, I say yeah and then she laughs out loud for about five minutes and says “He's a wild one!” and throws her hands up in the air just laughing the whole time. Thankfully I was wearing sandals. Usually I walk around barefoot, but there was a lot of mud due to the never ending, why does it never stop, I've never seen anything like this in my life, rain. He tore my sandal and I had a small place on the top of my foot where one of his teeth had been, but nothing bad. We still glare at each other, me saying “I remember what you did” and him saying “You remember what I did.” Why couldn't she have a poodle?

Alright, well.......he looks a lot meaner with a foot in his mouth

What I probably looked like during the harrowing attack