Mirror, Mirror

Although we do not know exactly what day during the month of August, Delta is about to reach its first year of life. In canine terms, she stops being a puppy and becomes a dog of adulthood — closing a beautiful cycle of growth, transformation and learning for which it has been a great honor to be able to accompany her.

I remember the first 30 minutes after deciding to adopt her with a knot in my stomach. We were leaving El Cuyo, Yucatan, and I was carrying her for the first time on my chest in a little pink backpack. I will never forget the feeling of his little legs pushing against the zipper, the sound of the closing slowly opening, and my right hand reaching insufficiently fast towards the brake, causing Delta to fall to the road. I was immediately paralyzed — despite hearing her screams — and was flooded with fear. Fear of turning back, fear that he was hurt, fear of what was committing me, fear of feeling guilty for the good or discomfort of another being, fear of taking responsibility for his fragile life. After Yeni ran after her, we checked that everything was alright,and we adjusted it with a sarong in a more secure and protected way, we continued our way to the town of Dzonot Carretero — a relatively short journey, but one that, according to my memories, seemed eternal.

All the while, I was questioning myself about all my decisions; from exposing Delta to these kinds of dangers, to exposing myself to those same kinds of dangers — which, until recently, had not materialized into a reality that vibrated me to the bone.

On the other hand, Delta was very calm and even happy, sniffing the landscapes and looking at me compassionately with eyes of mercy. Neither she nor I had previously tried to shoot that way, being something new for both of us that we would learn together.

And that's how from the beginning, we developed our own communication. I learned to differentiate when she wanted water, to go to the bathroom, was bothered by the sun, or was simply bored, and wanted to go out to play or run for a while. I learned to read it with new eyes that formed on the back of my neck so that I could perceive it in its trailer. I found that my bike moves very slightly back and forth with the movement of your breath when we are braking, the rhythm of which helps me to deduce your mood or agitation.

I felt with my own muscles each kilo that was increasing, and I thanked from the bottom of my being, for each ounce of resistance and strength that was gaining, allowing her to run more and for me to carry her less.

Many ask me "how do you travel with a dog?", Referring more than anything to all this dynamic that I have just described and that happens on the road. However, traveling with Delta does not end when we reach our destination and get out of our respective vehicles. It is raising and caring for a living and energetic being at every moment of the trip. It is to analyze each belief and decision that comes from a subjective intention to do the "right" thing. It was even more complicated considering our particular context — without the routine, stability, or enough experience to understand or measure what the trip was going to ask of us.

One of my priorities throughout her upbringing has always been her freedom. At first, he was very reluctant to tie her up, put her on a leash, or lock her in her cart when it wasn't for transport. I knew that she came from a beautiful, wide and extensive beach, where she could have enjoyed just such unlimited freedoms. In addition, the different arguments in Google to practice methods of subordination and authority for their training did little or little to convince me. I guess he interpreted our relationship differently. Not so much as if I had adopted her, but that I had invited her on our journey, and therefore, I would seek to offer her that same freedom that she was seeking for myself.

However, Delta quickly became my greatest teacher by teaching me that she requires much more than the safeguarding of her freedom. That the care of animals, especially so young, is a much more complex process. But how could I go wrong wishing for her what I wish for myself?

On top of countless laughs and joys, traveling with her has given me the opportunity to reflect and re-evaluate what the act of "caring" means to me.

How do I take care of the beings I love?

How have they taught me to care?

How do I take care of myself

Or how should I be taking care of myself?

Through my relationship with Delta I realized that it is important to understand

especially our self-care to be able to take better care of others.

As on the bicycle, little by little we are learning to do it together — both me to take care of her and take care of me, and she to take care of herself and take care of me.

Sometimes it means not taking risks, even though we have the freedom to do so. Sometimes it means being more strict or saying no, both to myself and to her. I am knowing their limits and needs at the same time that I am recognizing mine. We have both had our scares, falls, and stumbles at some point, but each time we are a little more aware, abused and responsible for ourselves.

One notable change that has emerged more recently is in your concern and care for us. In one of those thousand turns that life takes, now it is she who lives with one ear always on the lookout, and sleeps with one little eye ajar and alert. I can't say that Delta is the most obedient dog on the planet, but she has become a worthy guardian and faithful protector of the journey, her senses always attentive to those around her. Nor can it be said if we have done good or bad, but I can assure you that I am witnessing the flowering of a very beautiful and very happy soul.

I take this space to thank all the dog guardians we met along the way, and who shared ideas, tips or suggestions to make this experience a little less overwhelming. To her beautiful family, who have accompanied her and who have contributed greatly to her care and to our co-growth: Papá, Mariana, Yeni and Tecas

... And you chiquis, who will never read this, but anyway, you already know.