Man's Best Friend
Usually these blogs are about Cuban animals or Cuban people, but this time I want to start with an American dog named Danny Boy. We came to know Danny when he was boarded at our vet's office while his master had surgery. Danny is a beautiful example of a Border Collie with symetrical black and white markings. Our vet showed him to us after hearing that his master died during surgery. We went home that night talking about adopting him, and by morning it was decided: we wanted him. When we called, his master's wife (who never liked the dog) had already picked him up to take him to a shelter.
A few phone calls later, we found Danny at Sarasota's Humane Society, and they agreed to hold him until we could pick him up. At 9 years old, Danny knew the ropes. He immediately got along with our other dogs and with our cats. We learned how smart Border Collies are when he needed only about two minutes to teach me to play toss with him. (I'm a fast learner, but he's an even faster teacher.)
But Danny does one thing better than all the other things he does--he is absolutely loyal to his master--and now that's me. When I wake up in the morning and get out of bed, he comes around the end of the bed as if to say, "good morning." Not most days--every day. When I'm writing or reading or using the computer, he's right there in sight and he moves from room to room with me always.
I heard a story about a dog in Cuba who reminds me so much of Danny. Baldo was another dog completely dedicated to his master. His master became sick and had to enter the hospital, and Baldo waited at the hospital entrance, expecting to see his master when he was discharged. Tragically, his master died in the hospital, but Baldo didn't know it.
Someone must have taken pity on Baldo and must have given him food and water, because Baldo maintained his vigil for 15 days without leaving. Finally some good soul called Nora Garcia, the President of Aniplant, Cuba's only official animal protection organization. Nora found Baldo and arranged for his adoption by a new family. Now, years later, Baldo is alive and well and focusing his love and faith on a new master.
Danny, Baldo, and countless other dogs prove every day that dogs deserve their "man's best friend" description. They'll stick with you through thick and thin--through happy times and adversity. They don't care if you are rich or poor--good looking or ugly. All they really want is the occasional demonstration of love--a pat on the head or a scratch on the neck, and they'll become your loyal friend for life.
Les Inglis
Saturday, March 26, 2011
Saturday, March 19, 2011
Learning in Another Land
Learning in Another Land
We were walking up Havana's most famous old street, The Prado. The street has a large, park-like central walkway, elevated a few steps above from the lanes of traffic to either side and shaded with century old trees. Kids were playing in the walkway while adults watched them from benches on either side of the parkway. There is something special about this street with many of the buildings on either side restored. We crossed the traffic lanes and walked up the small sidewalk next to the buildings. We looked into an open window and saw about ten young children quietly reading, and my friend, Nikki, who is a teacher from Holland, spoke to the young lady who was obviously in charge of the children.
She told us in good English this was a temporary location for her library. She was teaching reading to the kids, who were all dressed in the standard uniform of all the primary grade school kids in the country. I was stricken with the perfectly quiet and obedient manner of the children. They each had a reading assignment. The teacher invited us inside the library. Books were piled on tables and shelves, and every child had a book and was reading with great interest. Except for brief initial peeks to see who these strangers were, their heads turned back to their books, and there was not even a hint of talking among the children.
I remembered my own grade school classes, and how the arrival of someone new in the classroom was always an excuse for some chatter with the other kids. My teachers seemed to tolerate this break in discipline for a short while, but it didn't happen in Cuba. No, Cubans of any age take education very seriously, and when it is time to study, no other activities are permitted or tolerated. It wasn't just this small group of readers--you could see the respect in the uniformed boys and girls at the grade school across the street from our hotel. When classes were done, they lined up for their rides or walked along the sidewalks talking politely. There were no antics, no exceptions to the decorum, even after school was out. The same was true before classes, when they all took their positions in the school yard to pledge the flag and sing the national anthem.
As we left the library and the small class of readers, there were practically no eyes lifted from the pages. These kids were completely engrossed in their books, the way any serious reader would be. Education in Cuba is a respected right of every individual. They seem to regard it as sacred, and the idea of causing a disruption is the farthest thing from the minds of the students. Surely this attitude is carried forward into adulthood for many. Cuban radio has lots of music and some drama and comedy shows, but above all, are the news programs and the didactic programs. Aniplant presents three radio shows now and one television show every week on animal protection. If Cubans want to learn something about caring for their dogs, they listen to their radios. It isn't hard to find one of Nora Garcia's little lessons about man's best friends.
Judging by the number of people who stop Nora on the street for advice about their pets, the advice she offers about animals is just one more kind of education that informs the lives of Cubans.
Les Inglis
We were walking up Havana's most famous old street, The Prado. The street has a large, park-like central walkway, elevated a few steps above from the lanes of traffic to either side and shaded with century old trees. Kids were playing in the walkway while adults watched them from benches on either side of the parkway. There is something special about this street with many of the buildings on either side restored. We crossed the traffic lanes and walked up the small sidewalk next to the buildings. We looked into an open window and saw about ten young children quietly reading, and my friend, Nikki, who is a teacher from Holland, spoke to the young lady who was obviously in charge of the children.
She told us in good English this was a temporary location for her library. She was teaching reading to the kids, who were all dressed in the standard uniform of all the primary grade school kids in the country. I was stricken with the perfectly quiet and obedient manner of the children. They each had a reading assignment. The teacher invited us inside the library. Books were piled on tables and shelves, and every child had a book and was reading with great interest. Except for brief initial peeks to see who these strangers were, their heads turned back to their books, and there was not even a hint of talking among the children.
I remembered my own grade school classes, and how the arrival of someone new in the classroom was always an excuse for some chatter with the other kids. My teachers seemed to tolerate this break in discipline for a short while, but it didn't happen in Cuba. No, Cubans of any age take education very seriously, and when it is time to study, no other activities are permitted or tolerated. It wasn't just this small group of readers--you could see the respect in the uniformed boys and girls at the grade school across the street from our hotel. When classes were done, they lined up for their rides or walked along the sidewalks talking politely. There were no antics, no exceptions to the decorum, even after school was out. The same was true before classes, when they all took their positions in the school yard to pledge the flag and sing the national anthem.
As we left the library and the small class of readers, there were practically no eyes lifted from the pages. These kids were completely engrossed in their books, the way any serious reader would be. Education in Cuba is a respected right of every individual. They seem to regard it as sacred, and the idea of causing a disruption is the farthest thing from the minds of the students. Surely this attitude is carried forward into adulthood for many. Cuban radio has lots of music and some drama and comedy shows, but above all, are the news programs and the didactic programs. Aniplant presents three radio shows now and one television show every week on animal protection. If Cubans want to learn something about caring for their dogs, they listen to their radios. It isn't hard to find one of Nora Garcia's little lessons about man's best friends.
Judging by the number of people who stop Nora on the street for advice about their pets, the advice she offers about animals is just one more kind of education that informs the lives of Cubans.
Les Inglis
Friday, March 11, 2011
Alicia and the Drainpipe
Alicia and the Drainpipe
Ballet audiences around the world from New York to Monte Carlo to Havana love her as Cuba's prima ballerina, but I love her for her love of animals. And Alicia Alonso Martínez deserves all the love she gets for whatever reasons. She has lived and danced in many places, winning fame and fortune as she stirred ballet audiences. For the animals, she has been a friend and supporter of Havana's Aniplant, the country's only recognized animal protection organization. This is a story of her love for animals.
Alicia, in her role as director of the National Ballet had charge of the National Museum of the Dance, an impressive mansion on Havana's spectacular Avenida de los Presidentes. The museum had its cat mascots, and one had had a litter of kittens. One adventurous kit explored too far and disappeared falling from a gutter into a drainpipe. When the museum staff discovered one kitten was missing, they called Aniplant for help. Everyone scrambled to find the kit, and eventually someone heard the soft calls from inside the drainpipe. The kitty was stuck at a turn in the pipe. Firemen were called, but they were reluctant to cut open the pipe on the historic old house.
Alicia, never uncertain about helping animals, gave the order: "Cut whatever you have to to save the kitty." And cut they did to find the kitten unharmed and safe. The firemen who first spotted the little creature had to pull the cat out by its tail, squawking and scratching.
All this was years ago, but the little cat went on to become the museum's mascot, and Nora, Aniplant's President, says that cat still lives there in the mansion on Vedado's most beautiful street.
This story reminds me that we think we know famous people from their public performances and their publicity, but we really don't. They all have private lives, some just as interesting as their public lives. In another example of her love for animals, Alicia was recuperating from an eye operation when she ignored her doctors' orders not to move around and took her dogs for a walk. Surely she deserves her being named a "Person of Culture" by Cuba, and not just for her dancing.
Les Inglis
Ballet audiences around the world from New York to Monte Carlo to Havana love her as Cuba's prima ballerina, but I love her for her love of animals. And Alicia Alonso Martínez deserves all the love she gets for whatever reasons. She has lived and danced in many places, winning fame and fortune as she stirred ballet audiences. For the animals, she has been a friend and supporter of Havana's Aniplant, the country's only recognized animal protection organization. This is a story of her love for animals.
Alicia, in her role as director of the National Ballet had charge of the National Museum of the Dance, an impressive mansion on Havana's spectacular Avenida de los Presidentes. The museum had its cat mascots, and one had had a litter of kittens. One adventurous kit explored too far and disappeared falling from a gutter into a drainpipe. When the museum staff discovered one kitten was missing, they called Aniplant for help. Everyone scrambled to find the kit, and eventually someone heard the soft calls from inside the drainpipe. The kitty was stuck at a turn in the pipe. Firemen were called, but they were reluctant to cut open the pipe on the historic old house.
Alicia, never uncertain about helping animals, gave the order: "Cut whatever you have to to save the kitty." And cut they did to find the kitten unharmed and safe. The firemen who first spotted the little creature had to pull the cat out by its tail, squawking and scratching.
All this was years ago, but the little cat went on to become the museum's mascot, and Nora, Aniplant's President, says that cat still lives there in the mansion on Vedado's most beautiful street.
This story reminds me that we think we know famous people from their public performances and their publicity, but we really don't. They all have private lives, some just as interesting as their public lives. In another example of her love for animals, Alicia was recuperating from an eye operation when she ignored her doctors' orders not to move around and took her dogs for a walk. Surely she deserves her being named a "Person of Culture" by Cuba, and not just for her dancing.
Les Inglis
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