Potcakes


There was a guy on the beach. He looked like an indigent. He was skinny as a rake. His clothes were all wet. He had been swimming in his clothes and he dragged the puppies in with him as well. The puppies were covered in sand and shivering. The golden one (to the left) had a collar way too big for it, and it dragged him down.

The man was almost incoherent. He was rubbing his feet in the sand at the shore. He said that he was getting rid of callouses. The man said that he was a musician. He played the steel drum. I asked him when his last gig was, and he said two weeks ago. I asked him how old the puppies were. He said one was seven months old and one was 9 months old. He was either confused or wrong or lying. They were much younger than that. He dragged them around by their collars which were a heavy burden for the wet shivering puppies.

On this island, wild dogs are called potcakes. They are called that because they are fed cornbread scrapings from the pot, after Johnny Cake is cooked. They are treated poorly. Every wild animal will run from you because they have been kicked, beaten or had things thrown at them. It is easy to tame a potcake however, because dogs are smart and loyal. This guy did not deserve the two dogs. It is useless to call the humane society. They do not have the same empathy for animals that we do. I suspect that it is a cultural thing.

The man in this picture asked me to buy him a soda, because the day was hot, and walk back was long. Instead I gave him $10, hoping that he would at least buy some dog food, or he would buy food and the dogs would get the scraps. I somehow doubt it.

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