Chapter 2
Once we arrived back at our apartment in Petion Ville another adventure with Coasta began. We were extremely tired from our drive but had a puppy and two live chickens to contend with. Our apartment was small with two bedroom suites and a central living room/kitchen area. We decided to place the chickens in the bathtub of the second suite with the door closed and the puppy in the attached room with a bed, some water, and newspapers spread on the floor. After tucking little Coasta in we closed the bedroom door and went off to sleep in our own room. If he cried we were oblivious, slumber took us down hard and quickly.
The next morning I awoke early with the excitement of playing with my new companion. I wanted to try to find dog food, a collar and a leash which proved to be a task in and of itself in a land that has never heard of Petco. I also figured his training needed to start right away so I hurried to the extra bedroom suite to take him outside for his first morning potty. Boy was I ever in for a surprise. As I opened the door two things became very clear; one: I had slept like a rock through an obvious storm, two: Coasta and the chickens had not!
The first thing I noticed was "feathers", everywhere! The boxes of our belongings brought from the United States were open on the bed with half of their contents strewn about or torn up. The chickens were also on the bed trying to hide amongst these items, squawking noisily and flapping their wings further spreading feathers. The bathroom door was wide open and again the feathers were so thick I wondered that the chickens still had any to spare. There were chicken droppings and little dog messes everywhere, so much for the potty run! And from under the bed waddled a cute little fat bellied Coasta to lick my face. Oh my goodness, I thought I had been tired the night before, but I had my work cut out for me now.
After cleaning up this disaster with the Coasta we did the best we could with him, but he proved to be a little too wild for a small apartment. We had no where to keep him outdoors and our landlord was not a happy man, especially since chewed and soiled furniture in the rented space was also owned by him. Coasta barked nonstop, chewed a very special hand crocheted afghan given to me by a friend as a wedding gift; he ate an entire crystal butter dish! I swear, the only thing left were slivers, and trust me; there are not many Veterinarians in Haiti, let alone ones that will make a house call in the middle of the night for that sort of trauma.
Although he was a happy adorable puppy it became obvious to us that he was not an apartment dwelling dog. He tripled in size in a month’s time and needed lots of room to run and grow. We were very fortunate that one of my husband’s friends quickly agreed to adopt Coasta. He had a house on a large plot of land and we new that Coasta would be well cared for there. He could run in the grass, chase the chickens and goats and would have the blue sky above him and the ocean breeze to blow back his floppy little ears. He would finally be free the way he was meant to be, after all he was a Haitian Hound.
