Livin' the Mad life

CUBA DREAMIN’ AND THE STEAK IS GREY

Do Not Look Stray Dogs Or Men In The Eye. They Will Follow You.

Ah, how to end this sordid affair with Cuba? It was Day number 10, and we were back where we started. Old Havana. We discussed staying in, indulged in thoughts of hiding out in our poky room on the 27th floor. Spending our last 12 hours in Cuba dozing in a stranger’s bed.

There’s a pesky guilt travelers catch when they aren’t out carping the diem. Every. Minute. Every. Day. We eventually succumbed to the Guilt, as is customary for us, forcing us out of our shloppers, and into a cab headed to the infamously fabulous Hotel De Nacionels. The decision was made that it was in our best interest to get one last dosage of rum and sugar.

We did not belong there. And certainly not with our new pet. My partner in travels and life long companion, Liv, naively stared a mangy street dog in the eye and it decided to follow us. Hot on our tails, scabs aplenty and a major fan of dripping saliva onto our shoes, the dog wasn’t about to just quit. To the bemusement of bystanders, we ran screaming down the road, arms flailing about like two wacky inflatable tube men, alternating between hysterical laughter and panicked shrills. Taking shelter in a convenience store, we clung to one another and said what could have been our last goodbyes. Standing next to a shelf of Havana rum and dollar packets of darts, I looked my dear ol’ Liv in the eye...and was sassed out of the shop by a brilliantly a just afro’d lady who knew we weren’t paying customers.

The chase continued.

I began to notice a pattern in the dogs stalking. It was so simple. Wherever Liv went, the dog went too. And in this dog eat dog world, I wasn’t going to chance a nibbled calf because I happened to associate myself with the mongrels new love interest. A quick jog to the other side of the road, and I was a free woman! The only thing weighing me down? A barrage of crude threats wafting down the street from an increasingly panicked Liv.

The dog became bored I guess, found a playmate closer to its gene pool, because not long after and it was just the two of us again. Lounging on plastic chairs, surrounded by coupled affirmations that money does not equal class, gazing out over the ocean with the first of many Mojitos in our weary hands. A higher than usual dosage was agreed on. We’d just been stalked after all.