The Dogs of the Island

They wandered the long stretches of empty beach, dug for clams in the sand, slept beneath decks and appeared at people's houses when there was food to be had. Some had names. Some had several names, depending on who was calling them. Some, I imagine, had no names at all.

At night, they became something different.

We could hear packs of them fighting in the distance, defending territory, their barking and snarling carrying through the darkness. It could be frightening to listen to. They were a reminder that these weren't quite the dogs I knew from home. They lived by different rules.

And yet morning would come, and there would be Buddy waiting for us.

Tail wagging. Soft-eyed. Ready for a walk on the beach.

My sister and her husband had built a home on one of the quieter, less populated islands in the Turks and Caicos. The beaches there stretched on for miles, and on some days you were more likely to come across a dog digging in the sand than another person.

The dogs were simply part of life there.

My sister and her husband were among the part-time residents who looked out for them. They left food out, kept an eye on the dogs that regularly came around and, along with other residents, sometimes helped catch and spay the younger ones before releasing them again.

Somehow, the dogs always seemed to know when my sister and her husband had returned to the island. Before long, familiar faces would begin appearing around the house.

On one of my visits, two dogs in particular began spending their days with us. One of them was Buddy.

At first glance Buddy is a dog that I might have been wary of, he was dark in colour, fairly large and obviously very strong – the dogs there are made up of so many breeds but I’d say he had a lot of the rottweiler look to him. The first time I took part in feeding the pack that would regularly come was somewhat terrifying! They were obviously hungry and would devour their food and then the younger ones would fight to finish off what was left on less dominant of the pack.

After the first time I became used to their ways, observing the order of this particular pack. Still, we would place the food and quickly head back inside before the feeding madness took place!

I don’t recall when I first started being drawn to Buddy or him to me but I’d find myself sitting on the deck when he was there and either just sitting with him or lying in the sun next to him. He would often head over to me if I was sitting on the bench. He’d jump up and lean the full weight of his heavy body against mine. It was a very comforting feeling that I still recall vividly.

On our daily walks across the road to the beach Buddy would often race ahead through the low brush and trees like he was making sure the coast was clear and that we were safe to proceed. Once there he would wander off sniffing things and digging for clams. Funny enough the dogs would never go into the water much above their legs. I never did see a dog swim in the water even on the calmest of days.

We’d sometimes walk for miles down the beach, the dogs following – sometimes disappearing into the brush and then finding their way back to us. We’d venture out into the water or onto the sand dunes – if we were going further out or were on kayaks they would often find a shady spot under a tree and wait for us to return.

There would be long stretches of time that my sister and her husband wouldn’t be on island but there was a network of people who lived close by that would report on the whereabouts of, particularly, Buddy. During a hurricane we were all concerned about the dogs on the island. After the storm passed we found out that Buddy had found a safe spot alongside the home of one of the part-time residents who happened to be there during the storm. He was perfectly fine. I guess that highlights that the dogs of the island are resilient, tough, independent fierce and yet tender all existing at the same time.

Buddy didn’t belong to me, he didn’t belong to anyone. He chose the people who cared for him and in return he gave his dog attention, care and perhaps love. For the time I was there, somehow Buddy and I belonged to each other.

I didn't know it then, but one of these island dogs would eventually change the course of my own life. Her name was Shirley. But hers is another story.