Guarda, the Dog
Two adults and a fractious seven-year old crowded into a small 4
cylinder car, which was also loaded full with luggage made for
rather cramped traveling conditions.
After rather a long, hot, frightening drive through the
mountains, on the way from Spain to the Portuguese border town of
Guarda, we were really looking forward to stopping for a rest.
It was very hot in the car and it was really nice to get out and
stretch one’s legs and enjoy the breeze for a bit. It wasn’t long
before I noticed a large, white dog and her litter of fat
squirming puppies, lying in the shade of the Tavern where we were
having lunch.
The puppies were cute and cuddly. It only took the tavern owner
about 2 seconds to realize that he could get my father to part
with some of his Portuguese “Escudos” (name of the currency) for
one of them. He proudly told us that the puppies were half
Pyranese mountain dog and half wolf. the Pyranese Mountain dogs
were used to guard the sheep while they grazed in the mountains,
but occasionally they got friendly with the enemy!
My long-suffering mother tried to point out the disadvantages
that such an acquisition was likely to bring to our already
overloaded car. Her good advice fell on deaf ears, however and
Guarda (seemed like a suitable choice of name) joined our
traveling party.
We found out quickly that Guarda was not interested in a great
deal of physical activity. He had evidently never heard that
exercise is good for young dogs. Whenever we left the car and
tried to take him with us, he would walk a few steps, and then
would simply sit down and refuse to budge. Certainly he could be
dragged, but it was usually far more expedient to simply pick him
up and carry him. (I’m sure you guessed who always ended up
carrying him — my mother.)
We made many unscheduled stops along our journey toward the city
of Lisbon (our destination), in order to accommodate the toilet
needs of Guarda. He would complain until we stopped and then
would sit stubbornly near the car, refusing to take a step.
We carried water in a bottle for him, and a little dish for
him to drink out of.
It was fortunate that all the hotels that we stopped at for
overnight stays were understanding about a furry traveling
companion; none turned us away and the staff were always very
kind in finding scraps for the puppy to eat.
Guarda was certainly living up to his name - he took his guard
duties over me very seriously. He slept on the end of my bed and,
tiny as he was, when my parents would try to come and give me a
good night hug, Guarda was right there, tiny teeth bared,
miniature growls and snarls issuing from his throat and hair
raised ominously.
As it turned out, we would have done well to try to break him of
this habit, because as an adult dog he was prone to turn on any
of the family if we crossed him in some way. (I still have the scars he left on my right arm after he thought I was after his bone.)
As we progressed across Portugal, toward our goal of Lisbon, the
capital city, Guarda grew larger and heavier and more unwilling
to walk.
We stopped for several days at a coastal town called Funchal. It
had one of the most beautiful beaches I have ever seen; I can
still remember the silver, fine sand, the huge width of it and,
In the hot sun, walking from the road to the ocean, carting our
towels, drinks, sundry gear…plus one fat, dopey puppy…My poor
mother.
One nice thing about Guarda - once you got to your destination,
he simply flopped down and slept. No danger of this dog running
away, much too lethargic.
When we finally got to Lisbon, it was decided that we would
settle on the outskirts, rather than stay in the city proper. We
traveled to a well known coastal resort called Estoril, home of
displaced European royalty, booked into a medium quality hotel
and set up house, dog and all.
Again, I have to mention the
attitude of the hotel staff toward the puppy. We were either
amazingly fortunate or Guarda was a very endearing puppy.
There were many lovely areas that we could take walks in and my
mother used to spend hours taking us — Guarda and I — for walks
everyday. Guarda could sometimes be persuaded to play, and now
seemed to be willing to walk on his own four feet for longer
periods. We would walk until tired and then find a shady spot to
sit; my mother would crochet or sew and I would fantasize about
being some imaginary character from comic book, and Guarda would
gratefully sink down wherever he stopped and snooze.
After some months in the hotel, my father negotiated a long term
lease on a little pink house on a hill, on the outskirts of a
village called Livramento - about 4 miles from the popular resort town of Estoril.
The house commanded a view of the ocean to the south, the
mountains to the north, and east and west, hills and pine trees
and fields, for as far as the eye could see.
The grounds were terraced. Guarda soon discovered that he could run along the top of the wall (a ten foot retaining wall, in
effect) surrounding the property and terrorize passers by. He
still enjoyed spending most of his day sleeping, but when a
donkey cart, or a fish vendor or some rusty old bike would go by,
Guarda would be seen rushing along the top of the wall, snarling and
barking, letting the world know this was his kingdom.
Even though having Guarda along for our travels through Portugal
must have been a real strain on my parents, it certainly made the
trip a lot more bearable for me. Guarda was a lot of fun when he
could be woken up sufficiently to play, and he certainly was a
distraction — much more so than any stuffed toy I had ever owned, and a wonderful childhood friend.
