Ask your kids what happens when they move out. My parents asked me, I asked my kids, you know what I’m talking about.
Our current line up youngest to oldest
La Vitola. A little over a year. Part chihuahua, part unknown. She’s turned into an excellent cow dog. Grabs ‘em by the tail, Ole! Relentless little fuckwit.
La Cuchi. Close to two. Grandkids dog. This picture doesn’t do justice to how ugly the “piglet” is. Poor thing. Decent with the cows, good dog. Damaged, but good.
Rita la perrita. Grandkids dog. 2 1/2. Tiny. Fearless. Not especially fond of gringos.
La Tombee (little girl in Zulu). 11 - 12. Her mother and father were sister and brother. Most likely goes beyond her parents, but we’re not gonna judge. Good cow dog, good watch dog. Moving towards fat and lazy.
They live on 2 1/2 acres plus outside the fence but know they’re not supposed to wander off under penalty of the missus reedumacating them.
We’ve been lucky not to have any close neighbors so like the Dylan song, “Dogs run free” but that’s coming to an end as people start building.
The little fucktards don’t know it but tonight when they eat mole con arroz they get a pill for ticks/heart worm/parasites, and whatever. Heart worm is a big problem here.
Who’s your daddy you little retards!
El mole