I am a retired journalist, and I occasionally still Iike to write stories for magazines..... true-life stories ...... about things that happen when I am travelling in my motorhome. And often they are stories of some little event that has occured unexpectedly ...... and somehow I got involved.....!
Here is a Camino de Santiago story.
It is a true story, about a little dog that got lost, and it happened to me and the dog some time ago. I hope that it tells you something about my character .... and the fact that I love all dogs.
I first walked the Camino de Santiago 13 years ago, and since then I like to go back for a few weeks each summer, and as well as walking, sometimes I give help to other pilgrims by making use of my motorhome as a mobile First Aid post. Over 400 people per day go past any spot on the trail in mid summer, and often some of them need help of some kind. I am one of the many unpaid occasional volunteers who do this charitable work from time to time.

One very hot day I was parked at the side of the track in the middle of a long lonely desolate stretch of the trail about 40 kms west of Pamplona, and about 700 kms before Santiago, offering cool wáter from my fridge, and offering remedies for sunburn, insect bites, blisters and tendenitis from my First Aid box to the many passing pilgrims.
As a group of four pilgrims approached, they were preceded by a small hairy black dog happily bouncing along on its short little legs. It appeared to belong to someone in the group and I called out (in English ) "Is that tiny little dog going to walk all the way to Santiago..? Its a long way for such short little legs....!"
Immediately one of the women burst into tears, and replied (with a German accent) ....." Itt doss nott velong to uss. Mein Gott, itt haz bin following uss vor 6 kilometres effer zince vee left Asqueta village. It vont go back, and ve dont know vot to do...! "
Well, this is a familiar tale. It happens many times, and I have known of similar mishaps with other dogs (and sometimes even with cats and cows, horses and donkeys) who stubornly and devotedly follow pilgrims who befriend them and feed them.... for days and days. So I was not surprised when one of the other pilgrims exclaimed to the one in tears...... " I haff toldt you in Asqueta NOT to feed it ...! Now it vants to valk vizz uss for EVER...... you dumpkoff...! "
I love dogs. So what else could I do but to offer to look after it, and take it back to Asqueta...? And so saying, I bent down and scooped it up in my arms. It did not struggle, and even licked my chin. It seemed very friendly.
I waved goodbye to these very relieved German pilgrims as they walked on, and then inspected the collar around the neck of this little dog. It was a white plastic anti-flea collar, but there was no label or tag with a name or phone number. I saw that she was a female dog and noticed that her teats were very enlarged. This little female dog had very recently become a mother, and she must have puppies somewhere, and those puppies needed her milk....! The sooner I found out where her home was the better. So I put her inside the motorhome, put a bowl of water on the floor, and closed the door. As I returned outside and sat down on my folding chair by the side of the van to wait for more pilgrims this little hairy Dachshund immediately jumped up onto the passenger seat, placed her front paws on the inside door handle, and with her nose pressed to the glass she looked at me appealingly through the side window. I saw her wag her hairy little tail, and cock her head appealingly on its side whenever I looked at her. She was a most lovable little dog.
Later in the afternoon after the last of the many pilgrims had passed by for that day, I started the motor, and with this friendly little dog sitting upright on the passenger seat, I bumped along the trail for six kms. and arrived at Asqueta village. It is a village of about 50 houses, but nearly all of them were locked up, window blinds rolled down with no people living in them. It is in fact a 'weekend holiday cottage' type of village, as so many other villages are in that part of Navarra in Spain. But I knew that there was a bar there, and thats where I went first, with the dog cradled in my arms.
The lady who runs the bar told me that she had seen the dog for the first time that very morning, playing with the pilgrims who were drinking coffee and eating whilst sitting at her tables just outside. She had noticed that the dog was being given bits of ham rolls that the pilgrims had bought from her in her bar. She was certain that it did not belong to anybody in this sleepy little village, and that was confirmed by other people that I met as I walked about outside later.
So.....what to do now....?
Might she have followed pilgrims from the next village further back along the trail....? I returned to the van, started up, and set off towards that village 4 more kms. away, with the little black female dog standing, with back legs on the seat besides me, front paws on the dashboard, grinning from ear to ear with her tongue hanging out, wagging her tail in ecstasy. She seemed to enjoy being driven by me in a motorhome....!
Ayegui is a larger village, with hundreds of people living there. I improvised a dog lead with a long piece of string, and tied it to her anti-flea collar. Then we set off for a walk around the crowded streets. To everyone that I met I asked the question ....." Have you ever seen this dog before....? " (Has visto esta perra alguna vez antes..? ) But after an hour and many dozens of enquiries, nobody could help me.
Then in the distance I heard the sound of loud music and singing. I followed the music, and after a short distance through the streets I turned into a large square. There were hundreds of people there, and more than a hundred children were dancing to the loud pop music, blaring out from loudspeakers on an open flat top truck parked in the middle. It was a Fiesta day in Ayegui, and the Ayuntamiento (Town Hall) had arranged the entertainment for the kids. At that moment the loud-speakers were playing Michael Jackson singing "I'll be there" ..... and many of the kids were 'moon-walking' as they danced and jigged to the song. Could the owner 'be there' while his lost dog was there at my feet .....? I wondered how to find the owner in that very crowded place, and wished that I knew his name. Then, with the oft repeated refrain......"just call my name, and I'll be there" ironically blaring out of the loud speakers ..... an idea came into my head. So I walked up to the truck, and just as Michael Jackson was finishing his haunting song, I spoke to the person who was playing the CD records on the sound system. This Compere was very comically dressed up, with a bright pink shirt, long baggy trousers held up by wide braces, very long flat-footed boots, and had lots of colourfull makeup on, with a plastic 'bald head' and a red nose ...... just like a Ronald MacDonald clown. I said..... "Can I please use the microphone....?" ( Puedo usar el microfono por favor...? )
The clown did an exagerated 'double take' and staggered backwards, loudly flapping the boots and with arms flailing about, paused for effect while the children all laughed, gave me a curious look, then with eyes very wide open and smiling , fiddled with some switches on the sound console, and passed the microphone to me. And so, with the little dog held high above my head in one hand, I spoke in Spanish into the microphone held in my other hand. My voice boomed and echoed around the crowded square..... " Attention ..... attention .....Ladies and Gentlemen, and all you Children..... this little female dog in my hand is LOST." ( Atencion..... atencion...... Señores y Señoras y todos los niños ...... esta perrita en mi mano esta perdida ) Everyone in the square went quiet. The children all stood still. Hundreds of eyes turned towards me. The little black female dog wriggled a little bit in my hand above my head, but I continued....... "This morning this little dog went astray and I have brought it here from a long way away." ( Esta mañana esta perrita se estravió, y yo la he traido aqui desde lejos ) A sigh went up from the crowd. I went on....."So if anybody recognises this dog, please come and tell me. It wants to return home. It is lost, and I am seeking its owner. Thankyou all very much" ( Asi si alguien reconoce esta perra, por favor ven aqui y dimelo. Quiere volver a su casa. Esta perdida, y yo busco el amo. Muchas gracias a todos )
Then I turned and gave the microphone back to the clown, (who winked at me, and smiled a wide smile )...... and I suddenly recognised that under the multi coloured make up it was actually a very attractive young woman clown.!!! When I turned around again, I found myself surrounded by dozens of children, all screaming pleadingly....."Give it to meeeee......give it to meeeeeeee ...... I will take it home to my mummy and we will love it and look after it...... give the little doggie to meeeee...!" (Damela a miiiiii ....... damela a miiiiii ..... yo la llevaré a mi mama, y la amaremos y la cuidaremos ...... dame la perrita a miiiii .....! )
I cradled the dog protectively in my arms as I gently pushed through the crowd of well meaning kids, and made my way out of the square. The loud speakers started up again behind me. Michael Jackson was now singing.... "I want you back"
Did the owner want the dog back....? I felt sure that he must. She is such a lovable little female dog..... and her puppies were somewhere in this area, hungry for sure, and needing her milk.....! A man sidled up to me, and in a conspiratorial but friendly way, said ......."I reckon that dog has been dumped out of a car, and the owner has driven off because he doesn't want it anymore. You've got it. So its yours now" ( Yo pienso que esa perra ha sido tirada fuera de un coche, y el dueño ha arrancado y huido porque no la quiere mas. Tu la tienes. Ahora es tuya ) )
I sighed, and returned slowly to my motorhome with the dog happily trotting along beside me. I had a long think. Then I drove to a supermarket, and leaving the dog on the passenger seat, I went in and bought some cans of dog food, and a leather collar and dog lead. It was late in the day now, so I then drove out into the countryside, and parked up for the night in a quiet lane at the side of a field. I put some tinned meaty dog food in a bowl, and placed it besides the water bowl on the ground just outside the side door. As she began to tuck in to her food, I started to cook my supper, all the while thinking....... "Can I keep this lovable little female dog...?" But knowing that she must have little baby puppies somewhere, who must be hungry, I determined to find the owner the next day. As I ate my supper, she finished hers, and went and 'did her business' amongst the tall grass and bushes in the field. Then she returned and hopped up the steps into the van, as if she had lived in it all her life. She had made herself 'at home'.
When I had finished my supper, I placed her gently on the front passenger seat, and she curled up and made herself comfortable. It was now after 11 pm and dark, so I undressed, had a shower in the shower compartment, and climbed up the three steps into my bed at the rear end of the van. Just as I was beginning to fall asleep, I heard a little whine. So I sat up and peered over the edge of the bed (which is more than a metre above the floor) and there she was, sitting in the moonlight that was coming in through the windows ..... looking up at me..... imploringly. I looked down at her for a while, (thinking to myself) ..... " I know what you want" ..... and then I softly whispered (as if she could understand me..!) ...... "Look you silly little *****..... you cant jump up here, and I wont lift you up. And furthermore, you might be interested in knowing that you are the very first female in all of my life that I have ever refused to take into my bed. So goodnight...!"
She slowly walked forward and hopped up onto the front seat - her seat and her bed now - and I heard no more from her until the morning.
The next day after we both had had breakfast and a little 'walkies' for her to do 'her business', I drove into the large town next to Ayegui, called Estella. Pilgrims walk through Estella. She might have followed pilgrims from here. I parked, put the new collar and lead on to this little hairy lovable black dog, and again I walked the streets for two hours with her at my side, asking all and sundry....."Have you ever seen this dog before...?" ( Has visto esta perra alguna vez antes..? ) No result. I asked for and found the Police Station, went in and asked the Sergeant in charge, "Has a dog been reported as lost.?" (Alguien ha dado parte que se le ha perdido una perra...? ) No result. I had my Spanish mobile phone with me, so I left him with my phone number. I obtained the phone number of the local Dogs Home in that area. I phoned. No result. I left my phone number. I went into three pet shops and asked if they recognised the dog. No result. I left my phone number. I went into three Veterinary surgeries. No result ....... except that one Vet inspected the teats and her other 'delicate parts' carefully, and diagnosed that she had given birth only about a week or ten days ago. I left my phone number with all the vets. I walked the streets for another hour. No result. I went to the pilgrims hostel (Albergue de Peregrinos) and asked the Warden if he knew of anybody who had lost a dog....? A pilgrim maybe....? No result. I left my phone number.
Then, feeling exhausted I returned to the van. Again I drove out of town, parked in a forest, and as she frolicked around her new home .... my motorhome ...... I prepared supper for both of us. As she and I ate, I began to think ..... "Have I done enough to find her owner....? Shall I keep her as my own dog.....? What name shall I call her....?" She returned from a little excursion amongst the trees (no doubt having completed 'her business' ) and hopped up onto my lap. She knew who her owner was..... for now. She licked my chin. I tickled her ears. I was already in love with her....... and she with me.
During the night I thought carefully about everything, and decided to try a last possibility. In the morning I drove back to Asqueta, the first village, to a large 5 star hotel just outside there. Pilgrims walk right past this hotel. Leaving the dog in the van, I went in, and asked the young lady receptionist....." Can guests bring a dog into this hotel...?" ( Los huespedes estan permitidos traer sus perros aqui en este hotel...? ) She obviously thought that I wanted to stay in her hotel, and that I must have a dog outside in my vehicle. Very brightly she chirruped...." Oh yes Sir. You can bring your dog in, and place it in the special dog compound that we have downstairs for our guest's dogs" ( A si señor. Usted puede entrar con su perro, y ponerlo en la perrera que tenemos abajo especialmente para los perros de los huespedes ) Then I paused. I was trying to think of what delicate words to use to extract from her the information that I wanted, but which she would probably be reluctant to give to anyone. As I was thinking, she fluttered her long eyelashes at me, leaned forward seductively across the counter , took a deep breath and puffed up her ample bosom (which was only partly hidden by her minimum-coverage uplifting black bra which I could see through her flimsy semi-transparent blouse ) and then she looked at me expectantly. I also leaned forward. But looking only straight into her eyes (as advised by our Prince Charles for these delicate situations) I asked in a low voice......"Has any guest had a dog escape from here recently...?" ( A algun huesped se le ha escapado un perro recientemente...? ) She stepped back, frowned angrily, and declared in a loud accusatory voice...... "Never. Never. No dog has ever escaped from here. We keep the compound locked, and only I have the key.....! " ( Nunca..... nunca..... Ningun perro se ha escapado de aqui. Tenemos la perrera cerrado con llave, y solamente yo tengo la llave...! ) Then, no doubt convinced that I was only wasting her time and making excuses to ogle her bosom and 'chat her up' ...... and correctly surmised that I had no intention of staying in her hotel anyway ...... she reached for her cardigan hanging on the back of her chair, and with an affronted look on her face she quickly put it on, and hurriedly did up all the buttons ..... completely hiding her very attractive eye-catching charms.
That was a pity.
Just then a phone rang.
She then squinted her eyes at me, and lifted her chin aggresively, as if to demand of me ...... "Well....?" I paused, and wondered why she did not reach for one of the phones in front of her, and answer it. Then suddenly I feared that the reason that she was now scrutinising me in such a very aggresive way, might be that she was now thinking of calling the hotel security guard who was hovering nearby in a corner of the hall ..... to tell him to throw me out....! But it wasnt that. It was because the phone that was still ringing loudly, was NOT one of the phones on her desk. It was MY OWN mobile phone in MY trouser pocket....!
Hurriedly I turned away, and fumbling for my phone, I hastily ran out into the street ...... thinking ..... "Thank goodness I have just been saved by the bell.! " There on the pavement I pressed the green button and spoke my name into my phone. A man's voice then spoke in a nervous whisper ...... " Are you the Englishman that has found my dog....?" ( Eres tu el inglés que encontró mi perra...? )
I gasped with relief.....!
I was still withering under the fierce look of the indignant receptionist and the pugnacious-jawed muscular security guard, who were now both staring at me through the plate glass window, but I turned my head away and asked the man on the phone to describe the dog I had found. In three short sentences he convinced me that he was the rightful owner, had two starving puppies in his house, asked me where I was, told me he knew the Hotel Asqueta, and would be there in twenty minutes in his car. I told him to meet me in my motorhome parked just outside the hotel...... and to bring the puppies.
Twenty minutes later a car drew up, and out stepped a man, carrying two tiny puppies in his hands. As soon as he came to the side door and stepped in, the female dog saw the puppies, and lay down on her back whining with pleasure and wagging her tail. He placed the puppies besides her, they both yelped and dashed straight at the teats ...... and then noisily started sucking their first proper meal in four days.
Over a cup of tea sitting at my table, he told me his name was Miguel, and he told me what had happened. He lives on his vineyard three kilometres north of Asqueta, and well away from the pilgrim's route. Four nights before, there had been a private party and fiesta in the garden of the house next door. At midnight, many loud fireworks had been let off. The female dog had panicked at the loud bangs, and run out into the night ..... abandoning her puppies....!

Next morning Miguel and his wife had searched the surrounding countryside for her, calling out her name "Lily.....Lily" many times. They searched far and wide, to nearly as far as Asqueta, but in vain. For three days they had tried to feed the puppies with cows milk, which they dripped into their tiny mouths with an eye-medicine dropper that they bought in a pharmacy. But the puppies had vomited up most of the unnatural milk. They were visibly growing weaker by the hour. So that morning in desperation he had gone to a veterinary surgery in Estella to ask for advice. There he was told of an Englishman who had found a little black hairy female dog Dachshund ....... and he was given my phone number.
The puppies finished their life-saving feed of their mummy's milk, as I told Miguel of how I came to be in possesion of his Lily, and of everything that had happened since. Then we went out to his car carrying the puppies, as Lily jumped up and down excitedly besides us. We placed all three in the back of the car. Then despite my protests, Miguel pressed some money on to me for the collar and lead, and the dog food I had bought. He promised to get a disk engraved with his phone number and attach it to her new collar. Then he pressed into my hands ( with no resistance at all from me) two bottles of wine from his own vineyard ...... and a bottle of excellent Navarra Cava champagne.
As they drove away I waved at Lily, who was standing at the back window of the car, looking at me inquisitively, with her head cocked on one side. She is a lucky little dog, and I loved having her for that short time.

I will go to the Camino de Santiago again...... and I seek a travel companion who will help me to help the pilgrims.
If you know of a mature lady who might want to join me.... please put me in touch.
John Francis..... age 69.

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Delightful story, John!

What a wonderful story. A true account of human kindness.

Such a long story ...but nice.