Bobbi Johnson reminisces some more about her early days in Nosara, this time about the dogs she has known and loved:
Our first dog was Mickey, a skinny stray living with a family who was not able to care for her. We spayed her and fattened her up and then the family wanted her back for the kids. We said OK, because of the kids, but she returned to us in about a week.
Back then, dry dog food was unavailable, so I had to make a concoction of ground beef, chicken parts (including heads), garlic, rice, and veggies. We bought a freezer just to store this. When we got our second dog, Zarpe, for whom we paid about $30 to the local grocery owner, we were glad to have the freezer. Zarpe weighed about 35 kilos. I discovered this when he went after a bitch on the beach and I had to carry him back home. This prompted us to start the spay/neuter clinic. We persuaded a vet from San Jose to come out for a couple of nights and spread the word that he was there. When lots of folks showed up we used our guest house as the waiting room, complete with Bloody Marys, while the doctor operated on the front deck. This was way before Nosara Animal Care existed.
Zarpe was beautiful but not too bright. One day he came home foaming at the mouth, so we threw him in the car to search out the vet who had spayed our cat the day before. Before we reached him, Zarpe died. He had two small puncture wounds on his lip. It seems he stuck his face into a coral snake’s face and he was dead in less than 30 minutes. We had bought our beach lot so my husband was taking Zarpe there to start our “pet cemetery” and ran over the spayed cat. He didn’t kill her but had to break her neck to spare her a miserable life. Not a good day at all. She’s in the cemetery, too.
Next we bought Marley, Zarpe’s brother from a different litter. Mickey and Marley got along great and went wherever we went. Mickey had a horrible skin problem and oozed oil, leaving a grease spot where she was lying. Richard Buferd, at the Gilded Iguana, never complained. A vet examined Mickey and told us she had some sort of allergy and to feed her only egg yolks, which he pronounced “jokes.”
Marley and Mickey
One day I was walking the beach with Patty Doe’s mother and we decided to cool off with a swim. As we entered the water Marley went nuts, which he had never done before. We soon got caught in a riptide and Patty’s mom told me she couldn’t swim, but floated well. We survived, thank goodness. A few days later, I was walking the beach when Marley stopped in front of me and sat down. The third time he did this, I decided to obey him and turned around. I never found out if danger had awaited us or not.
On another beach walk, a pack of five dogs attacked Marley and beat him pretty thoroughly. About a week later he saw one of the dogs at the Iguana, and he went after him. That got all the dogs there going. Everyone started calling their dogs: “Marley!” “Harley!” “Charlie!” The only damage the melee produced was one knocked down trellis wall.
After my husband died, Marley became my first love. He would sleep in my bedroom, protect me, and accompany me everywhere. Then he got tick fever, which I discovered too late. We went to San Jose for treatment, and at night I could hear his lungs filling up. I called the vet to have him put to sleep, but Jan Buferd, with whom we were staying, intervened and we sent him off to the hospital — the only time he had ever been in a crate. When I called the next morning, he was doing somewhat better, but by the time I arrived he had died. I’ll never forgive myself for not getting there sooner.
I wanted to take him home to bury him in the yard. I was going to buy a suitcase to take him, but Jan said she had one into which he would fit. At SANSA while I was waiting in line to check in, the agent was telling the family of six ahead of me that some of the bags might not be able to go. Great! I couldn’t very well tell them that my suitcase held a dead 55-pound dog. Fortunately, both of us made the flight.
Marley is buried at the beach house. I was thinking that the suitcase would be Marley’s coffin, but Jan said, “Just send the suitcase back to me with another friend.” So I returned Jan’s suitcase to her. After she died I used the suitcase to bring things back for Damaris, my helper, who wasn’t thrilled when she recognized it as the coffin.
Marley was a great dog and I have been looking for another dog like him ever since he died.
We accumulated various cats and dogs during this time. I can’t remember them all, but they are all buried at the beach. Marley and Mickey were great with each and every one.