Tinta, the dachshund we’ve had since the beginning of the year, is all woman, if you know what I mean. We’ve not really been that bothered about that, until now that is. When we took her on my first question was to Riccardo, our friendly vet : when can I get her speyed? I’m not keen on adding to the dog population in Mallorca, there’s already too many abandoned animals who haven’t got a good home, and anymore just adds a burden. As we didn’t know much about Tint, Riccardo told me that we would have to wait until she came into season before he could plan for her operation. Having never had a girl dog before I wasn’t sure when she may come into season, or even if I would know what the signs were when she did. Well believe me, I know now.
She’s gone all tranquilo on us, as if she’s had pmt for the last six months and now, finally she’s got some relief. There’s no nastiness (I was half expecting to have to find a doggy tampon or whatever they use) instead she’s very happy and very relaxed. Nowhere near the normal amount of nonsense or attempts to escape. Bliss. That is until we caught on to what was actually happenning. She’s become the Angelina Jolie of the dog world – she is (apparently) sex on legs, at least to the local dog population.
There’s been a very keen, indeed dogged (excuse the pun) little fella sitting outside our front door for the past four days. I can’t believe his dedication as day in and day out he’s been there, looking hopefully at us whenever we went in or came out of our house. I think we’ve both felt a little sorry for him, and gave him some water to ease the heat of the day (it’s about 80 degrees here now) but not as sorry for him as our neighbours who mistakenly fed him on day two when we might have been able to convince him to go home. But no, he’s a gentleman of the road, and seems very comfortable hanging out and waiting for his Juliet to appear. Which she has, on a couple of occasions.
But it is a little eerie, we’re being stalked. Our house is being staked out. Whenever one of us arrives home, he’s there. When we look out of our windows, he’s there, waving his tail at us. We can’t even open the front door without a reception committee – normally it’s only when we come into the house, not leave it.
I’m just going to check if he’s still there…….. Yup, he’s still there. Keeping the doorstep warm. Apparently girl dogs stay in season for about a week, so we only have another 3 days of house arrest before Tint stops smelling like Chanel for perro and we can all get back to normal.