Goodbye Charlie

We’ll start this one with some coffee, black.  Dark as hell.  Darker than the heart of darkness.  “Blacker than the seed in the in the black berry pie” says Mos Def.  He continues “Blacker than the middle of my eye […] every time someone ask ‘who am I?’ I simply reply that u-n-i 

v-e-r-s-a-l magnetic.”

In reality the coffee came after the walk, but yeah, writing. Creative license and other such things.  License to kill.  License to imagine readers.

Today is the first time I’ve walked Kaia on leash in Monteverde in probably two years.  If you know her, or if you’ve read, then you know.  She just follows or stays if told to.  She’s there, and therefore, the leash hasn’t been.  But today I walked Kaia on leash.

Yesterday we said goodbye to Charlie.  With offspring on the way, it was a good time to move to a better equipped house.  But the house came with a non-financial price: Charlie had to go.  If you read a bit of our blog, then quickly you will deduce that Charlie has been a handful.  In the 18 or so months of his tenure with us, he’s cost us around 20 leashes, 78 collars, one heavy bag, the foam for my bar-bell bench, picture frames, one toilet seat, one bathroom door knob, around 70 linear feet of pvc pipe, 14 egg dozens, 7 chicken breasts, and probably around $400 worth of fuel used to go track him down somewhere at night when he just wanted to stay out.  Sigh. 

But—sigh—if you spent one minute with him, than you would quickly forgive him for any and everything he did and sure as hell would do in a heartbeat, again.  (Oh, he also done messed up a bunch of my crops.)  He has eyes that give Lucia’s stiff competition.  And he’s a sweet devil.  Very, very sweet.

Consider this:  One prominent ecologist in the area would get real mad at Charlie cause he was hunting agoutis in and around his property.  So, this ecologist would tie him up and call us to come get him.  One day, he decided to invite Charlie into his house, while we arrived.  He steps in the shower for quick cleansing (the ecologist does) only to find Charlie laying on his pillow, dirty as hell, chewing what’s left of his ethernet cord.  The ecologist concludes thus: if his wife would let him, he would keep Charlie.  “He’s so damn sweet…”

Yesterday Macario came by in the morning with his quad.  We fastened Charlie’s crate onto the back of it.  I gave him a hug and lifted him into his crate.  He was happy, smelling the smells.  He loves rides, so I’m sure his trip down the mountain to Guacimal was exciting.  Charlie now lives on a cattle farm down there.  He will drink fresh milk every day, and be outside all day long.  He probably will hunt a good amount, which is what he loves.  Charlie doesn’t hunt.  Charlie is hunting.  There’s a very big difference, and it’s not semantics.  It’s ontological. 

Yeah it really sucks to see him go, and yesterday was about as bad a day as I’ve had in a long time.  But we know he is better off where he is, and in time, we will be better off too. 

When I walked Charlie the past 4 months or so, he was on leash, as we tried to domesticate him a bit more.  It wasn’t always clear who held whom on the leash, as he could pull me in every which direction if he wanted too. 

Today, I wasn’t sure who held whom on the leash either.  Kaia doesn’t “need” the leash [insert parameters here].  I think I needed the leash today. 

Back on the farm, she’s off leash, and she glances up to me as we approach the milking shed.  She is excited, but waiting for my approval.  “Ok” I say to her, and she dashes off to her new best friend: the bucket full of left over milk for all the farm dogs to enjoy.