THE BLACK DOG

This is a true story and there will not be any images with this story. There was no time for taking pictures since the majority of this story took place in darkness. This is a story that simply must be told mostly, in my opinion, out of respect and admiration for the black dog. It is one of those stories that when on ones deathbed, and a loved one asks that you tell a story that was a powerful experience from your life, I believe this is a story that might be told. And at the same time it is a story that one deeply and earnestly wishes had never taken place. A story that tells of a life situation that was harrowing and dangerous and where a life was lost and where other lives were hanging in a very thin balance. Some men might beat their chests and howl at having survived the experience but because of the black dog I somehow did not feel like rejoicing at my own survival. 

The black dog was a stranger to us all. And since there are hundreds if not thousands of homeless street dogs in San Miguel de Allende Mexico (3 1/2 hours north west of Mexico City) this black dog decided to partner up with 8 cowboys on that dark night. All of a sudden he was simply there. I say he but none of us knew if the black dog was male or female. None of the horsemen on the ride from San Miguel de Allende (SMA) in Guanajuato Mexico back to our ranch 8 kilometers away had ever seen the black dog prior to this evening. On that evening we were approximately 70 or so horsemen all gathered in the city center for the reenactment of Mexico's liberation from the Spanish. As a gringo I was graciously asked to participate in the event and even though I had heard the reenactment could be and usually is a wild, crazy and even dangerous experience, I decided to see for myself. So my loyal Quarter horse Tatanka and I prepared ourselves for the experience.

The reenactment went well in as nobody was injured or killed as horsemen cantered on cobblestone streets past thousands of onlookers with cameras around the church (San Miguel Archangel Parish Church built in 1880) in the city center. Horses slipped and skidded on the cobblestones as sparks flew from iron shoes. The snorting horses, tightly packed together on narrow streets and between wide eyed tourists, bumped into each other as riders shouted and screamed Viva Mexico over and over and over again. As one of the 5 or 6 gringos participating I tried to imagine how it must have been to to be a part of the coup against the Spanish those many years ago. 

And then the reenactment was over and by the time we had all handed in our costumes and after we had put on our own clothes for the ride back to the ranch dusk was settling in over the ancient city founded in 1542 by Fray Juan de Sanmiguel. Our ride would be 6 or so kilometers of weaving our horses through the narrow streets of SMA and then north along Highway 51 in the direction of Dolores Hidalgo and back to Rancho del Sol Dorado where most of the horses were stabled and where a few of us lived. There was another route back to the ranch but it meant we would have to ride in the darkness through San Luis Rey, a village known to be dangerous especially at night. So, we chose to ride along the highway which was not a great choice either but that was the only other route back. Hindsight being 20/20, if there were to be a next time especially knowing and having experienced what I did this year, I would find a way to trailer horses and cowboys back to the ranch from the city.  

Of course, in what I was beginning to learn is somehow true Mexican fashion, nobody had really prepared themselves for the ride home in the dark. Meaning that I was the only one who had packed a few flashlights in my saddlebags and I wore a reflector vest since I knew we would be returning to the ranch along the highway in the dark. I guess I figured that others would do the same? Wrong! So, there we were weaving our way through the narrow cobblestone streets of the city soon to be riding alongside Highway #51 towards Dolores Hidalgo. And the moon, which I was hoping would be our illumination, would not come out for another few hours so this evening was a thick, heavy blackness. Many of the riders as well as many of the horses were hardly visible in the dark night as I would glance over my shoulder as we left the city. Three of us had the small flashlights I had packed and their light became almost instantly suffocated by the heavy black of the dark night. We all instantly realized that it was a dangerous situation especially since, at times, we were forced to ride on the very edge of the highway. At no time were we ever more than a few meters distance from the speeding cars and trucks coming towards us.

And suddenly we all realized that the black dog was still with us. In the darkness he was invisible but as we would occasionally ride under a dim street light or when oncoming car lights blinded us and slightly illuminated our path - there he was like a panther, or a ghost leading our way. And then there he still was after some more hundreds of meters. And when the speeding cars flew by I would catch his blackness in the flash of headlights and then he would vanish as quickly as he had appeared as the headlights flashed by. As I have said he had joined us all the way back in the city center and now there he still was leading our group out in front like a shadowy, illusive point man in the jungles of Vietnam. Fearless, naive and innocent, like some brave dumb child pushing forward into he knew not what but proud at the same time. I found myself having brotherly thoughts of him as we plodded forward into the darkness sometimes able to see a few meters ahead and only seconds later blinded by oncoming headlights. I was thinking that when we would arrive back to my home at the ranch - I would give him a safe place to reside since I felt him to be a refugee brother somehow. It seemed to be only him and me out there in the dark since the other riders were behind us in the darkness.

And then, as we wove our way northwards, we came to a place on the side of the road where we had to venture onto to the highway for about 15 meters. Slowly the terrain nudged us closer and closer to the road and the passing cars and trucks. I was amazed and even frightened at how fast the cars and trucks sped by us only feet away. Then it happened. The black dog began to wander out onto the highway. I was suddenly filled with anxiety and fear as I desperately called to him and took my eyes for a brief moment off of the terrain where I was guiding Tatanka. As I guided my horse to the left in an attempt to draw the black dog towards me and away from the highway two things happened at that very instant. 

I heard a sound that I will never forget even if I live to be a thousand. A sound that instantly shattered my dreams of bringing the black dog home to be a part of my family. A sound that ripped and tore viciously at my heart. I heard a car or truck slam into the black dog with such impact that I felt myself jump in the saddle. As I said it was a sound that I will never, ever forget. There was no yelp or bark or sound made by the black dog. He was instantly and mercilessly crushed by flying steel and I remember that I felt an instant sickness to my stomach. And at the very instant I heard that sound my horse and I plunged downwards into a ravine that, as I found out two days later when I returned to investigate, was about 8 feet deep; a culvert where rain water ran in the rainy season. Crashing into the ravine filled with thorn bushes, like only exist I believe in Mexico, I only slightly remember my horse, like in a slow motion dream, attempting to get his footing and stomping frantically on my chest and head. It was Tatanka's desperate attempt to right himself and to exit the ravine. The other riders later said I had simply disappeared. One second I was there and a second later I was gone.

The other riders also said I had disappeared for about a minute before I came clawing my way out of the dark ravine. I guess that is about how long I was unconscious. My very first thought upon regaining consciousness was for my horse Tatanka, where he was and if he was safe. It turned out that Jorge, the ranch manager from Rancho del Sol Dorado, had jumped off of his horse, handed his reins to another rider, run out into the highway to, at the last instant, save my horse from being crushed by a passing car. I will be eternally grateful to Jorge for his courage and instant clear thinking. If not for him it is certain that I would have also lost my beloved Tatanka on that dark night. 

At the same moment I remembered the black dog and my heart filled again with sudden pain and anguish. It was as though that homeless black street dog sensed that just maybe these horsemen could be a new family for him. That if he showed us his loyalty and led us all safely home that maybe one of us would love him and take care of him and give him a home. I would have been that one since I felt a strong kinship with this homeless soul. As a matter of fact, at the very moment he got hit, I was having deep warm thoughts that I would gladly welcome him he to join my family. The black dog and I had much in common it seemed since I have always felt like an exile and stranger from another realm. But on that dark night he had another job it seemed. He was our forward observer, the eyes and ears of our group. He was out front where anything can and does happen - and life expressed its ugly ruthlessness on that dark night on the side of the highway. The black dog in a flash simply ceased to be.  

Two days later, after spending the next day healing myself physically and emotionally in bed, I returned to the ravine. My thought was to find the black dog and to take him back to the ranch and give him a decent burial, so deep were my feelings for him. But that was not to be since I could not find his body among the deep grass and thorns. I felt terrible that I could not find his crushed body. I will not forget his loyalty and his courage, ever.

Black dog wherever you are

know this and be sure.

That on that dark night when you were no more,

I, a horseman, will not forget you.

I pray that I will meet you once again!