I took the dogs this morning on a three mile walk – which if you’re a chihuahua is quite an accomplishment, and even more so when one of the dogs has a generalized fear of the outside world and whose shirts don’t even fit her anymore.
They did walk beautifully though, and even the scaredy cat was able to cope with jst about everything but bicycles whizzing past. (In which case the claws come out and the dog freezes up until the threat is past)
But you have never seen so many people on their morning rounds stop or pause just long enough to admire the little dogs in their dresses out for a morning walk. No less than four people in the span of an hour stopped just long enough to talk to me about the dogs.
You would think that in a country where the national dog is the chihuahua, more people might know about them.
My goal for the end of the summer is for the shy one to start getting more comfortable on her walks instead of with the ears flattened back and tail tucked between the legs. And also for her shirts to fit her again.
After their walk, they have promptly collapsed into my lap for their afternoon nap. Sometimes, I swear the dogs sleep more than my cat.
I’m not sure what it is about the Mexican Soap opera that brings half of Mexico to a grind between the hours of 19.30-22.30 but you can reliably count of many households virtuously sitting in front of their televisions watching the latest drama unfold.
And I mean drama.
Everything is close-panned reactions of faces as the drama bomb drops and the music swells and becomes dramatic in a way that is worthy of the silver screen. The acting is absolutely terrible – in that I would make a good fit for the show – and people are always having affairs with other people. Yet every evening my aunt and grandmother tune in – this season it’s called “Vivir a Destiempo” – to see what will further develop.
I think the people in these soap operas like the adrenaline rush that comes with everything being so dramatic. And I mean everything, from being late to an appointment, to forgetting a date, to the man being the baby’s father.
Admittedly it is a great way to learn to speak Spanish, although sometimes they can speak a little fast, so you get lost if you’re not keeping attention. It’s so poorly done sometimes I wonder if they didn’t just pick up the actors from off the street. (Although many are all young, blonde, and fit, so perhaps not all).
Nonetheless the comedias make me laugh because the whole plots are so ridiculous, I cannot take them seriously, even as my grandmother swears lightly at an actress whose double dealing.
In other news, it seems that the small drizzles of rain these last few days have brought down the temperature enough for it to be pleasant here in the city. Up north there were reports of over 40C temperatures (The human body temp should remain about 37C) so you can imagine I am grateful for the little rain.
Tomorrow morning we have to be out of the house by 08.00 because there is some breakfast invitation to which we must pick up two other ladies and the restaurant is somewhere in the southernmost point in Mexico city. And which, according to my aunt, can take 2 hours to get to if traffic is bad.
I hope it won’t be.
PS: Mom: Abuelita sends her love to the family.t