Last Spring, I inherited a small amount of money from my mother’s estate. I had also recently lost my best pal Luke in January, as well as the end of a meaningful relationship in April. In between that time, I adopted a puppy named Milu who had come from Playa Del Coco, Costa Rica. The adoption experience through Long Trail Canine Rescue was amazing. Not only was it a smooth process, but in meeting Kim Frigault, I met someone who cared about Milu’s welfare, but not in a possessive, over-worrying sort of way. In short, I had found my people. It was an easy thing to do to offer the money to Kim to rescue another dog from Costa Rica. But instead of accepting the money, Kim encouraged me to visit Costa Rica and bring a dog back to Vermont to foster and put up for adoption.
I jumped at the idea and told Kim that it didn’t matter what dog I brought back to Vermont with me – old dog, puppy, sick dog, healthy dog. I just wanted to help a dog find a good “forever” home. Fast forward to July and August — I ended up bringing back Chino, a senior dog, who is now part of the family, having permanently adopted him in September after utterly failing at being a foster. I knew that first trip to Costa Rica wouldn’t be my last. When I lost Luke and the relationship earlier this year, I needed a place to pour my love and energy.
During the July/August trip, my new friends in Junquillal mentioned that there would be two spay and neutering clinics in November. Without hesitation, I said I would be there. And so I traveled to Costa Rica once again just before Thanksgiving. Different from the trip in the summer, which was pretty much all about Chino, this trip was mainly about getting involved in the local communities of Pinilla and Marbella and seeing the spay in neutering clinics in person. How often does one get to witness cultural changes in motion?
In Costa Rica, dog owners don’t quite have the same perspective as we do in the United States. Dogs are more beasts than they are pets (I love that the word for “pet” in Spanish is “mascota”). Costa Ricans don’t have the same means as we do in the U.S. But it’s also an issue of education. The spay and neutering clinics not only help to keep future dogs off the streets, the clinics also help to legitimize dogs (and cats) as pets in the eyes of their owners. Every dog and cat that was fixed at the campaña in Pinilla left with a collar. It’s incredible what a difference putting a collar on an animal can do in transforming beast to mascot in the mind of the owner. As an animal lover, it’s a privilege to see pet owners take greater responsibility for their animals by bringing them to the Campañas de Castración.
I’m so grateful to my friends in both Vermont and Costa Rica who have welcomed me with open arms and allowed me to participate in helping the animals that we all love so much. It’s rewarding to be a part of it and to have a front row seat to cultural changes in motion. I took the photo below at the Pinilla clinic and it captures so much of what I mean by a cultural change in motion.
Awaiting their turn, Campaña de Castración, Pinilla, Costa Rica
