Loyalty

Our daughter Isabella started feeling sick yesterday and has kept us up all night. She is now trying to sleep a bit next to her mother and Aristoteles on the couch in our living room. When I tried to photograph my two loved ones, Aristoteles face popped up in front of the lens, staring intensely at the thing I was holding in my hands. 

Here in Brazil, people say that adopted street dogs (vira-latas, lit. "can turners") are the most loyal dogs and very protective of their new family. And it certainly is true about Aristoteles. When he noticed that Isabella wasn't well, he decided to protect her against any evil that might come her way. He has been staying at her side for some 24 hours now. And whenever my wife and I approach our daughter, Aristoteles analyzes us thoroughly to see if we represent a threat to her. 

(I jokingly call myself my wife's vira-lata. But there is a more serious side to it: Normally, our dogs are kept in a separate, fenced-in part of our garden. One time Aristoteles escaped into the other part at the exact moment I was coming home and the gate to the street was open. Aristoteles ran directly to the gate, and I was already preparing myself for a long chase around the neighborhood, when Aristoteles stopped right at the gate. He peeked out into the street, his entire body trembling with excitement and anticipation, and I could see that he was hearing the call of freedom of a life on the streets. But then, suddenly, he turned around and trotted back into our garden. Our youngest, it seemed, had taken a conscious decision. I think that pretty much defines loyalty.)

MMC17 Day #11