'light of foot'... little desert dog

I think back to El Refugio, back to a time in March of this year. I see Tequila and Minnie Mouse out in the neighboring ranch field, across the fence halfway across the fallow field of dust and dirt. Tequila crouches down in a furrow of plowed dirt, looking for all the world like a wild little desert dog, teasing the neighboring ranch dogs out of their resting spots beneath the palm trees several hundred yards away. Minnie is not far behind her, carrying in her mouth some object, which appears to be a bone of some kind. They don't respond to my calls. They are in their own little world, a world of innocent play in a hostile landscape. A backward glance to where I stand on the other side of the fence, calling them, is all they will offer me at this time.

I worry about their safety - will the rancher next door think they are feral dogs, perhaps shoot at them? The notion of this is unsettling. The ranch dogs come out to challenge, full of bravado and territorial claims. Who are these little intruders, they seem to be thinking. They make a rush toward Tequila, who holds her ground, rising at the last minute to approach them as they advance. The larger dogs hesitate, not expecting this response. Standing 10 ft apart, the two ranch dogs, both male, and Tequila stare at each other, seeming to wait for the other to make the first move. After some seconds of this showdown, where not a muscle is twitching yet the air is vibrating around them, Tequila makes a sudden move toward the other dogs. They stand a bit taller, but remain in place as she literally comes nose-to-nose with the larger of the two. After a moment of stiff-legged contemplation, tails begin to wag, and the dance begins. Obviously, being female seems to be a disarming quality Tequila brings to the table, but her fearless nature also strikes a chord, and a bit of playful jousting ensues, with the smaller Tequila throwing herself up onto the shoulders of both male dogs, one at a time. She is light and agile, very agile. Her moves resemble those of a coyote, which gives her a naturalness in these environs of this lower Baja California desert valley.

After a few minutes of flirtatious play, the male dogs turn for the ranch house, and Tequila follows from a safe distance. Despite my yells for her to come, she ignores me, and trots off with them. As I watch, a bit pissed off at her and about ready to cross the fence to go get her, she stops, and turns back. Just as suddenly, the two male ranch dogs turn to charge her, each one braver due to the presence of his companion. Tequila spins around, holds her ground, and the charge comes to an instant halt. Such brave boys, these two. Somewhat sheepishly, they once again turn back toward the ranch, leaving her where she is. After a few moments of watching them retreat, Tequila spins and in lightning speed lights up a dust trail headed for the fence - she is very quick, like a coyote. She has had her adventure for the day, and without even slowing down navigates the passage through the barbed wire fence and flies up to me, lightly jumping up and pushing me with her front paws, grinning ear-to-ear. I couldn't be angry with her, although I tried to act stern for a few seconds. I decided she should be called 'light of foot' or 'lightfoot,' - 'pie (pee-yeh) legero' as her native 'american' name.