In preparation for our trip everyone kept asking me how I felt, what I thought, if I was excited. But I truly, whole-heartedly felt zero emotions. And I’m a feeler. I feel everything, all the time, deeply. So since our last week in the States wasn’t a slow-burn of tears and sentiment, I knew the feels were going to ambush me. They were lying in wait, holding out to seize their moment.
That moment was when our landlord opened the door to our apartment. I walked around the quaint one-bedroom. It was clean, the property was beautiful, and the next morning I woke up in pure shock of how incredible our new home was. But that night, standing in our kitchen, tears just started rolling. Landyn was so frustrated with me and couldn’t understand what was wrong because in that moment he had the mental clarity I couldn’t find; this place was even better than the pictures. What was the problem?
The problem was I funneled my life into two suitcases. The problem was this was a lot of change that I hadn’t even begun to process yet. The problem was they don’t have a Target.
I needed food. I hadn’t eaten all day, hadn’t slept in 36 hours, I was a red Sim: none of my basic needs were being met.
Landyn and I were arguing as we walked down our steep driveway, when something dived out at me from the bushes. I screamed full-force, cussed Landyn out for moving me to the boonies where I was sure to be mauled, and then looked down to see my attacker: the cutest chihuahua I have ever seen.
We left the property a few times that night as we began to explore, and every time we came back she was waiting in the driveway to greet me. The final time, a second one joined the welcome party. Maybe Rodeo wasn’t going to be so bad.
Since that night, these two furry friends have progressively integrated themselves further and further into our lives. This is the story of our divided household: me and the dogs versus Landyn.
It started with my favorite, the one who lunged at me from the bushes, sitting outside our apartment every morning. She hopped on the chair and waited. A queen on her throne, peering through the window if we didn’t come outside to say good morning quickly enough. Her name is Sofía.
Then the second dog began approaching us more. We have since discovered that this second canine, Guadalupe (Lupe for short), is Sofía’s mom. Could this scenario get any more precious?
Lupe’s gnarly underbite gives her a grumpy, villainous look but in reality she’s incredibly docile, always jumping in your lap.
I swiftly fell in love with these adorable creatures. We are now at the point where they whine at our door every morning, eager for snuggles while I drink my coffee.
They’ve even begun to whine at our door during evening hours, too. Allegedly they belong to our neighbors, however they’re constantly on our property.
Initially, Landyn made it very clear that he did not want the dogs inside our apartment. I accidentally (“”) let them in.
Landyn conceded that it wouldn’t hurt to have them inside for a few minutes, but definitely not on the couch. It was a hard no:
After the couch became on-limits, the next hard line was drawn at the bedroom. They absolutely could not leave the living room.
^ This is the bed that LANDYN (Captain Hardass) made for them out of some extra bedsheets and my carry-on duffel. It’s on our bedroom floor, a foot away from our bed, so they can sleep as close to us as possible.
See a recurring theme, here?
Which was important because we have clearly fallen in love with these precious pups, but Landyn was adamant that one zone of our apartment remain dog-free: our bed.
I felt like that was fair. And I am proud to say that although I may have lead the charge on busting the dogs through all of Landyn’s other red-tape areas, I did NOT let them on the bed. I knew I needed to respect Landyn on this one.
So about a week later, I took my nightly shower, brushed my teeth before bed, slathered on the moisturizer, and walked out to this:
And since that night?
Sofía and Guadalupe have gradually infiltrated our apartment, our hearts, and our lives. While we’re gone on trips I always say “I wonder what the dogs are doing.” We keep water for them inside AND outside the apartment (in case we aren’t home when they’re thirsty). I bought them doggy shampoo and gave them baths. I’ve thought about buying dishes of dog food. I’ve googled how to import dogs into the United States.
Landyn is less convinced.
He argues that A) the dogs aren’t strays, they actually belong to someone B) they live a great life here in Costa Rica, with being outside all the time and enjoying the great weather and C) it’s harder to find an apartment that takes dogs in D.C.
How dare he be so logical. And how can I trust someone that can resist these tiny faces?
I’m not sure what’s going to happen with our dogs. I’ve never knocked on someone’s door and asked them if I can have their dogs so I really don’t know how that’ll go over. I don’t even know that that’s what I’ll do. Maybe Landyn’s right, maybe they like their life here and I should leave well enough alone.
No matter who ends up with them, these dogs are forever going to be a big part of our story here. You know the sayings like “people don’t come into your life on accident” and “everyone serves a purpose in your life, good or bad” etc.? I think that’s kind of true, and I think it doesn’t have to be a person….it can be a dog. Or even two dogs.
They sprung out at me from the bushes and nearly gave me a coronary at the exact moment I demanded to be taken back to the airport because, ya know, change is scary. I mean what are the odds?! That has to mean these dogs were destined to be mine, right? RIGHT?!
Maybe I sound crazy and there’s no such thing as fate. Or maybe there’s no such thing as coincidence. One unarguable fact is this: these peewee puppies quickly turned this strange new house into a home. They’ve given us something to look forward to upon our homecomings, a purpose, and their companionship has been such a gift during this massive transition. We are now a family of four.
Stay tuned for future updates on my little cinnabons.
Until next time, friends.
Cari Anna Camera 