Greecy Animals

Charlie and I went to Greece, because we'd never been to Greece, and that's a pretty good reason to go somewhere. We had planned to go from Crete, by ferry, to a little tiny island with delicious yogurt, but it was varying degrees of windy from normal-windy to mega-windy which meant the ferries didn't run. So we stayed on Crete, in little Paleohora, and had awesome hiking adventures. And the yogurt was great there too. So, the hiking was great, magnificent, terrifying, endorphinful and awesome, in the biblical sense, but, the best thing about Crete, even better than the yogurt AND the hiking, was the animals. Because I'm not an artist by trade (or, okay, talent) and we were on proper holiday, not doing any kind of real life trade (or talent) things, I (and Charlie too) drew pictures of them for you. First, it turned out to be Greek Orthodox Easter when we arrived. So, everybody (everybody) has a goat on a spit, a-roasting. Some just out there, some wrapped up:

And there were dogs. In barrels. Barrel dogs. Dogs chained to barrels by the side of the road. Not, like, by a house by the side of the road, but just all by themselves, with their barrels, and nothing but road in both directions. Why, Greece? Why do you keep your dogs in barrels by the road? (Two of these are by Charlie. Two are by me.):

And there were piles. Piles and piles and piles of cats. But we didn't draw them. There were too many. It was over-whelming. And, finally, there was Mattress Puppy. A tiny, curly, tiny, tiny, limping, kind of squinting-blind in one eye, unable-to-bark little mutt who lived in a pile of trash under a mattress near the industrial-zone port. It came running out to us when we were on a run there on our last morning. It would approach us a bit, tail wagging, so so happy to see people PEOPLE! People to LOVE it and TAKE IT HOME somewhere that's not a TRASH PILE UNDER AND OLD MATTRESS, and then it would back away, afraid. Then up again, then back. It was dizzy with excitement. It was heart-wrenching. I have never been that into dogs. Margene's great, but, you know, not a dog person. More into piles of cats. But. This puppy. THIS. ONE TRASH MATTRESS PUPPY:

After a while, a small gang of bigger dogs who live on the other side of the port gandered over to see what was up with all the puppy commotion. They sniffed at Mattress Puppy and one of them bit his neck a lot, but mostly gently, so we were able, finally, to run off, knowing that, even if he dies of terrible, homeless-dog-trash-borne diseases before he ever grows up, mattress puppy won't be totally alone. At least.