A farm needs a dog. For security, as an alarm system, to protect and defend the crops from marauding creatures nothing beats a dog.
When we decided to travel for months to Costa Rica, we had no choice but to take our Australian cattle dog with us. She was 4 years old at the time and had traveled with us all over Europe, by car, train and plane.
Stella, that is her name, given to her by my wife who chose it because of Marlon Brando's famous scene in A Streetcar Named Desire, where he screams Stella's name in despair...Our Stella is a faithful, "velcro dog" (meaning she sticks to your side when out walking). So putting Stella in a traveling cage and loading her on a plane for a 12+ hour flight was unpleasant, but mostly for us.
Stella arrived in Costa Rica, had all her papers checked and was taken outside for relief. Despite nearly 16 hours in transit, Stella was fine.
We picked up our rental vehicle, loaded it with our luggage and Stella and headed for the hotel in San Jose.
The room was small, musty and under the flight path of the airport which did not stop landing flights all night long. We "slept", Stella lay exhausted at the foot of the bed. When the sun finally rose, we were eager to get going. After a small breakfast, we packed up, paid our bill and left for the Pacific side of the country.
Stella travels well. We made up a bed for her to travel in on the back seat of the car. Mostly she just lays there sleeping but when we slow down or stop she is immediately interested in what is happening outside.
Once, when we stopped to put gas in the car, the attendant appeared suddenly in the open window of the car which launched Stella into a barking fit so savage that the poor man nearly fell backwards from the shock. I apologized profusely, explaining that she is a good watchdog but has yet to actually bite anyone. Luckily, the attendant showed his good Tico character and accepted my apologies with a smile and the advice that it is good to travel in this country with a dog.
It was Stella who chose our farm, actually. The day we went to see the property with no intention of buying something, Stella refused to stay in the car. She leapt out of the rental and bolted down the property. Considering that we had no idea what lay down the slope, I chased after Stella, yelling her name and hoping she would not run off and get lost. When I arrived at the bottom of the hill, I realized there was a creek, running strong despite the intense heat and dry landscape all around. Relieved, I walked to the creek's edge. Stella, standing neck deep in the water, smiling, communicated with me through her eyes, basically telling me that it was great. She jumped about in the cool water, snapping at the bubbles on the surface, the leaves floating by and chewing any twigs that came within biting distance. I smiled at the sheer joy that was so evident in her demeanour. I called to Stella and she followed me back up the hill to where the real estate agent and the seller stood. My wife was busy with her phone. As I approached, I saw she was pushing buttons on the phone and wondered who she could be calling. She was calculating the cost of the property; I told her it had a creek and woods at the bottom. A bellbird sang it's haunting call somewhere in the valley as she asked for my help with the calculations, she "must be doing something wrong" she said. Using the calculator she had determined that the cost of the land was considerably less than our savings in Amsterdam. In Europe, generally, one could not find a small shed for such a reasonable price. We calculated it several times.
When we decided to travel for months to Costa Rica, we had no choice but to take our Australian cattle dog with us. She was 4 years old at the time and had traveled with us all over Europe, by car, train and plane.
Stella, that is her name, given to her by my wife who chose it because of Marlon Brando's famous scene in A Streetcar Named Desire, where he screams Stella's name in despair...Our Stella is a faithful, "velcro dog" (meaning she sticks to your side when out walking). So putting Stella in a traveling cage and loading her on a plane for a 12+ hour flight was unpleasant, but mostly for us.
Stella arrived in Costa Rica, had all her papers checked and was taken outside for relief. Despite nearly 16 hours in transit, Stella was fine.
We picked up our rental vehicle, loaded it with our luggage and Stella and headed for the hotel in San Jose.
The room was small, musty and under the flight path of the airport which did not stop landing flights all night long. We "slept", Stella lay exhausted at the foot of the bed. When the sun finally rose, we were eager to get going. After a small breakfast, we packed up, paid our bill and left for the Pacific side of the country.
Stella travels well. We made up a bed for her to travel in on the back seat of the car. Mostly she just lays there sleeping but when we slow down or stop she is immediately interested in what is happening outside.
Once, when we stopped to put gas in the car, the attendant appeared suddenly in the open window of the car which launched Stella into a barking fit so savage that the poor man nearly fell backwards from the shock. I apologized profusely, explaining that she is a good watchdog but has yet to actually bite anyone. Luckily, the attendant showed his good Tico character and accepted my apologies with a smile and the advice that it is good to travel in this country with a dog.
It was Stella who chose our farm, actually. The day we went to see the property with no intention of buying something, Stella refused to stay in the car. She leapt out of the rental and bolted down the property. Considering that we had no idea what lay down the slope, I chased after Stella, yelling her name and hoping she would not run off and get lost. When I arrived at the bottom of the hill, I realized there was a creek, running strong despite the intense heat and dry landscape all around. Relieved, I walked to the creek's edge. Stella, standing neck deep in the water, smiling, communicated with me through her eyes, basically telling me that it was great. She jumped about in the cool water, snapping at the bubbles on the surface, the leaves floating by and chewing any twigs that came within biting distance. I smiled at the sheer joy that was so evident in her demeanour. I called to Stella and she followed me back up the hill to where the real estate agent and the seller stood. My wife was busy with her phone. As I approached, I saw she was pushing buttons on the phone and wondered who she could be calling. She was calculating the cost of the property; I told her it had a creek and woods at the bottom. A bellbird sang it's haunting call somewhere in the valley as she asked for my help with the calculations, she "must be doing something wrong" she said. Using the calculator she had determined that the cost of the land was considerably less than our savings in Amsterdam. In Europe, generally, one could not find a small shed for such a reasonable price. We calculated it several times.
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