November 25, 2014 |
Music blared from a deserted French cantina on the Iquitos wharf as a handful of dogs surrounded me. They were like emaciated wolves smelling the chicken-to-go in my knapsack. A big white lunged for my waist that I socked in the jaw with a left hook. He alighted on his feet yelping and the rest bolted. But this was no ordinary pack. As the mongrels fled, an opportunist thug smashed the crown of my head from behind. Amazon wood is softer and the plank glanced off a round spot, as I wheeled. The little man was dumbstruck, as I grabbed his thick wrist in a wrestling hold, and twisted. A Peruvian in pain speaks the truth. This one snapped, ‘Don’t molest the dogs, my friends.’ His intent was to rob me because there is no free wood and his cudgel was in hand. I twisted again, tugging him along, exclaiming, ‘We’re going to the police; drop the club.’ It hit the street with a thud and he cried, ‘My mother will spank me!’ I yoked him into the lamplight and saw he was only a ragged urchin. ‘Do you like dogs?’ I asked. ‘I live like one,’ he replied. It is hard to find a dog lover these days, and so I let him go, knowing the next night he would protect me.