The humble beginnings and true-life tale of Sparky, hero of the Isla Mujeres Mystery Series: Chapter 7

 

           Chica and the Christmas tree, un árbol de Navidad

Chapter 7

Learning the rules

“Buen día, Princesa Chica. ¿Cómo está?” I said, “Good day, Princess Chica. How are you?”

“¿Estoy bien, gracias, y tú?” Chica answered me in cat-Spanish, and I understood. She had said she was doing well, thank you, and then asked how I was.

I was so pleased I couldn’t stop my tail from doing its helicopter-spin of happiness. “I’m very well, thank you,” I replied, and then I noticed she was sitting beside a little tree covered in cute decorations.

“Oh, that’s a good idea, an indoor bathroom for pets,” I said. “But why is it sitting on a table? It should be on the floor.”

“No!” Chica quickly said. “This is our Christmas tree, un árbol de Navidad. Our humans would be upset if you peed on it.”

“Really?” I put my front paws on the wooden table and gave the tree a sniff. It didn’t smell anything like a real tree. “What’s a Christmas tree?” I asked.

“It is part of the decorations our humans display at this time of the year.”

“So, Servant and Driver are also Decorators? Do we call them Decorator One and Decorator Two?” The rules of my new home were very puzzling. And why shouldn’t I pee on the tree? That’s what trees were for.

“No,” Chica answered, “she’s always Servant, and he’s always Driver. Tommy says we don’t want to confuse them.”

“Si, now I remember. He told me that humans are difficult to train.” I agreed.

“Sí, very difficult,” she agreed. “Tommy is smart, and you should always listen to his advice.”

“I will,” I said, carefully studying the fancy tree. I still didn’t understand why I couldn’t use it for my indoor bathroom.

“We are extra lucky because we were born in Mexico and there are many winter celebrations, not just Christmas,” Chica said. “The holiday season starts with December 12th, Día de la Virgen de Guadalupe, the Virgin of Guadalupe Day. Then, December 16^th to the 24^th is the Posadas, a procession that recreates the journey of Mary and Joseph, and December 24^th, Nochebuena or Christmas Eve, is when Mexican families have their special feasts. Our people and many of their friends are called Gringos, and they have their feast on December 25^th.”

“Is that when the people create loud noises? Lots of booms and bangs?”

“Yes, fireworks scare me,” Chica answered.

“I usually just hide under something and try to sleep,” I said.

“Me too!” Chica said. “The best part of the holiday season is that our people like to invite their friends and some of their cat-friendly dogs to a party at our house. They laugh, play music, sing, and eat lots of yummy foods.”

“I don’t think my first human had a lot of money. We never had a party,” I said wistfully. “Parties sound like a lot of fun.”

“Si,” she agreed, “and our humans also go to our friends’ houses to celebrate.”

“Do you get invited too?” I asked.

“Tommy and I are invited to the parties that are close by,” she said. “We follow Servant and Driver along the beach.”

“What else do you do to celebrate?” I asked.

“My goodness, you ask a lot of silly questions!” Chica flicked her tail and glared at me.

“I’m sorry. I don’t understand everything about my new life yet.” I said, “Please be patient with me.”

She sighed, “Yes, you’re right. I’m sorry. We were all strays at one time.” She licked one paw and cleaned her whiskers.

I was fascinated. She knew how to self-clean just like Tommy. Maybe she could teach me, but not right now, because she was still talking about the holidays.

“And there are parades with funny costumes,” she said, “and music, and people tossing candy for the children and their parents. Many people go to a building called a church and sing nice songs,” she added. “It’s a busy time on the island, but we enjoy the excitement. My favourite day is Christmas Day. We get presents in the morning, then we eat turkey and sweet potatoes at dinner time.”

“Turkey? What’s that?” I asked.

“Turkey is awesome! It’s a huge bird that is roasted for hours, and then we feast on it. Servant, Driver, Tommy, me, and of course you this year. We eat and eat, and then fall asleep.” Just thinking about the upcoming feast made Chica feel sleepy. She stretched and yawned, “The celebration continues until January 6^th, Día de Reyes, when the Mexican children receive their presents from the three kings.”

“Presents? What are presents?”

“Presents are my favourite,” she replied with a sly grin. “You’ll see.”

Oh no, I don’t like it when a cat gives me a sneaky smile. I am pretty sure it means something bad for me, like another visit to the cat-doctor.

Maybe I should just hide outside in the bushes on Christmas Day.

Lynda L Lock - Buy your copy today!

The humble beginnings and true-life tale of Sparky, hero of the Isla Mujeres Mystery Series

 

Chapter 6

Home!

“Oh, you’re back,” Tommy said. He stood up, arched his back, and stretched out his front feet. “Did you enjoy your visit to the cat-doctor?”

My bushy eyebrows shot upwards, “It was awful,” I replied. “The only good thing is these nice people came back for me.”

“Yes, we’re lucky, we have people who love us,” Tommy said.

“What do I call our humans?”

“They have people names, however,” Tommy replied with a bored sigh, “I call the woman Servant and the man Driver.”

“Why did you pick those names?” I asked.

“Because when I first met our humans, that’s how I thought of them. They swap jobs frequently. Sometimes Servant is the driver, and Driver is the servant, but I don’t change their titles.”

“Should I do the same?” I asked.

“Yes. Humans aren’t very smart,” he answered. “It took me fourteen years to properly train them.”

“Okay, I think I understand,” I said. I was not quite two years old in people years; that’s around twenty years old in doggie years. Tommy had already lived fourteen people-years, and that made him an expert.

Eager to learn more from Tommy’s experiences, I carefully studied his actions. He licked his right front paw with his long, rough tongue and wiped the damp paw across his right ear, then repeated the process.

“Are you self-cleaning now?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said, then switched to cleaning himself with his left paw, “it’s called grooming.”

“Could teach me how to do grooming?”

“No, I’m sorry. Cats groom. Dogs get bathed by their humans. That’s how it works.”

“Oh,” I was disappointed. I wanted to be self-cleaning too, like a cat. Then I thought of the many cats still at the clinic. “Do all the animals at the cat-doctor’s place have people?”

Tommy yawned widely, displaying his tongue, sharp white fangs, and pointy teeth. “No, most of the cats are looking for humans to adopt them,” he answered.

“What about the doggies?”

“Some have owners, some are strays,” he said.

I watched in fascination as he stretched his front paws forward, then bowed his head, and arched his back. It seemed to relax him.

“I wish every doggie and kitty had nice people like we do,” I said.

“Me, too, but the cat-doctor and his staff make sure the animals under his care get food, medications, and a safe place to sleep,” Tommy said. “Princess Chica and I were both homeless before we adopted our humans.”

“Oh! ¿Hablas español? Do you speak Spanish?” I hopefully asked. It would be wonderful to be able to communicate in my language.

“No,” Tommy shook his head, “I’m Canadian. Our humans found me in a vineyard in Canada when I was a tiny kitten. I was so small I could fit in the palm of Servant’s hand.”

“You’re lucky,” I said, then scrunched up my face as I thought about what he had said. “How did you get to Mexico?”

“My people didn’t like the cold Canadian winters, so we moved here when I was nine.”

“Wow, that’s amazing,” I said. “I’ve heard that some of my doggie friends have been adopted to homes in Canada.” I shivered at the thought. “I’m sure they don’t like the cold.”

“It’s not cold all the time in Canada, only part of the year. Plus, their people dress them in warm sweaters and jackets, and in time they adjust to the colder weather,” Tommy said. “It’s no different than me with my thick fur moving from Canada to the hotter weather here in Mexico.”

“True,” I agreed, then I thought of something else I wanted to ask. “Is Princess Chica a Mexicana?”

“Yes, she entered our house from the beach. Just like you.”

“Does she speak Spanish?”

“A little, she was very young when she moved in with us, and she has forgotten most of her original language. She still speaks a bit of cat-Spanish. She says it’s different from dog-Spanish.” Tommy said with a shrug. “I don’t understand the difference.”

I thought about that for a bit, then said, “Mexican Spanish is a bit different from the words that people use in other countries, so Chica’s cat-Spanish may be a little different, but it would still be understandable.” I felt quite proud that I could explain something to a much older and wiser cat.

Tommy slowly turned his head and studied me for a moment, “Probably,” he finally agreed. He jumped off the sofa and wandered into the house. He didn’t seem impressed by my knowledge.

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The humble beginnings and true-life tale of Sparky, hero of the Isla Mujeres Mystery Series

Chapter 5

I thought they liked me!

They left me! I thought they liked me, then they left me at the cat-doctor’s place. I cowered inside a metal cage listening to the howls and whines of the other animals. I put my paws over my ears to shut out the noise.

What had I done wrong? I tried to be a good doggie. I hadn’t done my business inside the house. I hadn’t chased the cats. I didn’t leave a mess when I ate. I was tidy when I drank water. When I was still covered with bugs and dirt, I napped outside.

What did I do wrong?

I thought I had found a new home, and now here I was trapped in a crate. There were so many other unhappy animals in cages that I howled with uncertainty and fear.

“Shh. Sparky, it will be okay,” a pretty young woman with dark hair and kind brown eyes said to me in a soothing voice. “Easy, baby, we’re going to help you.”

I stopped my howling, but I was still quivering. She was speaking Spanish, and I understood her, except I didn’t believe a word she said. It had to be a trick to make me calm down.

“Come on, sweetie,” she said, lifting me out of the cage. “We have a couple of minor procedures and a few tests to do.”

Procedures? Tests? That didn’t sound good.

But then she held me while the evil cat-doctor stuck something sharp in my neck. I suddenly felt extremely sleepy. I struggled to stay awake, but it was useless. My eyes closed, my body went limp, and I sagged into the assistant’s arms.

“What a good boy,” was the last thing I heard.

A little bit later, when I woke up, I was back in the awful crate. I was stiff and sore, and very thirsty.

“Oh, good, you are awake. I’ll take you to your people,” the same young woman said.

People? I have people? I must be dreaming.

She gently lifted me out of the crate, carried me to another room, and placed me on a tall metal table. Inside the room, the people who brought me here were talking nicely to that cat-doctor.

I tucked my short tail under my bum and crouched low.

The curly-haired woman gently stroked my head and smiled into my eyes. “It’s okay, Sparky, you’re safe,” she said.

“He’s in good health,” the cat-doctor said. “He’s been neutered and checked for heart problems or other diseases. He’s been given vaccinations against both rabies and distemper. We also cleaned his teeth, trimmed his nails, and groomed his fur,” the cat-doctor said with a wide smile.

The curly-haired woman asked the cat-doctor. “What type of mix do you think he is?”

The cat-doctor smiled, “You know this is an island, and the pet genetics go around and around. His ancestors could be anything from a Great Dane to a Chihuahua.”

The woman laughed, “I think he is a pure-bred Mexican low-rider,” she said, motioning to my short legs.

“Exactly, and now he’s ready to go home,” the cat-doctor said.

Home?

Maybe this cat-doctor wasn’t as mean as I thought. He just said these nice people could take me home. I couldn’t help myself, my butt started to wiggle, and I stood up on my back legs to give him a quick little lick on his face.

“I’m so glad he’s okay,” the man said. “We’ve already been shopping and bought him food, a collar, a harness and leash, and a comfy bed.”

The cat-doctor said, “You’re going to have a great life, Sparky.”

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Return to Paradise, Isla Mujeres

My favourite - Bougainvillea flowers.

The warm, humid air, filled with the scent of tropical flowers and lush vegetation, greeted me at Cancun Airport, making me feel as though I was returning home, even if only for a few weeks.

On December 23, 2019, fifteen months after Lawrie’s passing, Sparky and I moved from Isla Mujeres to the historic city of San Miguel de Allende, nestled high in the mountains north of Mexico City. 

Known as a refuge for artists and writers, I had planned to live in San Miguel for at least ten years, but the pandemic changed those plans.

Ultramar passenger ferry.

Starting in mid-March 2020, I received several emails from the Canadian government urging me to return to Canada because borders were closing and all air travel was being suspended. The emails said the government wouldn’t be able to ‘rescue’ any remaining citizens once the lockdown was in effect. I was on my own in an unfamiliar city, with no support system. If I became ill, Sparky would have been at risk. We flew back to Canada on March 20, 2020.

This trip marked my first return to Mexico since the pandemic. As we neared Cancun airport, my seatmate, a WestJet employee, noted that the small gold emblem on the front of my Canadian passport allowed me to use the expedited customs line. With nothing to declare in my small carry-on, I cleared customs smoothly.

Gone were the customs and immigration forms that had to be filled out on the airplane after scrambling to find a working pen at the bottom of my purse. 

Gone were the massive lines at the luggage scanners, where each bag was rechecked before the owners left the security area.

Gone was the red-light, green-light lottery system that randomly (we were told) selected who would have their bags searched. That system was highlighted in an amusing illustration by my creative partner, Diego Medina, in The Adventures of Thomas the Cat: Las Aventuras de Tomás el Gato. It's a bilingual children's book that documents our cat Thomas's move to Mexico in 2007.

First photo - across from the Navy base.

Outside of Terminal 4, I quickly found the kiosk for my pre-arranged shuttle, and then we headed to the Ultramar passenger ferry. In previous years, when Lawrie and I returned from adventures abroad to our home on Isla Mujeres, we often took the inexpensive ADO bus from the airport to the bus terminal, then a local taxi to the Ultramar docks. This time, I wanted to be pampered, so I used a familiar shuttle service that included a round-trip ticket for the passenger ferry.

Arriving on Isla, I joined the line at the taxi stand and asked the driver how much it would cost to take me to my friend’s home near Maria’s Kin Kan. He quoted a price I expected, and I hopped in.

Punta Sur, a favourite spot for Sparky & I

For the next 16 days, I reconnected with many pals: permanent residents, part-timers, snowbirds, close friends from our old neighbourhood, and island friends whose great-great-grandparents had been born on Isla. We laughed, ate, shared a bottle or two of wine, and enjoyed the warmth of good friends and new acquaintances.

Different combinations of friends and I ate at several new-to-me restaurants, including the Isla Brewing Beer Garden, owned and operated by our friends Jeff, Rhett, and Anya McGahee.

Carnaval 2026. 

I searched for the tastiest tacos at Blue Ballyhoo, El Rancho, Loretta’s, Sabor de México, El Charco, also known as Deisy and Raul’s, Ulan Eatery, and Marina Bartolomé. We enjoyed tasty Italian dishes at De Nuccio’s. My friend Michelle and I dined at Rosa Sirena’s, where Debbie Crinigan de Chacon gave me a warm welcome-home hug.

The Medina family, Freddy, Eva, Diego, and Danaee, plus Carol Lawler and her cute pooch, Paloma, hosted breakfast at Sabor de México twice. On the morning of my birthday breakfast, a massive three-layer cake with a volcanic sparkler appeared at our table. Freddy and I served everyone in the restaurant a piece of cake and had plenty left over for the staff.

With permission from the owners of our beachfront home, I spread some of Sparky’s ashes on the sand. Sparky has many of his four-legged pals to keep him company: Thomas the Cat, Princess Chica, Missy, and Odd the Dog. And a little bit of his very best friend, Lawrie.

Sabor de Mexico.

On Isla, I zipped around in a rental golf cart, photographing favorite spots and comparing the photos with earlier images. I watched the always entertaining Carnaval parade. Michelle and I popped in to visit longtime friends Neil and Abbey Fox at Sac Bajo. 

My last night on Isla was spent at a successful fundraiser at my friend’s home, raising money for several worthy island causes.

Playa Norte, North Beach.

Usually, when someone has been on a tropical vacation, they come home with a tan. I am still a ghostly white. In sixteen days, I never once sat on the beach! (I did take a couple of photos of Playa Norte.) Neither Lawrie nor I were sunworshippers, even when we lived full-time on Isla Mujeres.

So, what had changed in six years? A lot. And nothing at all. There are more houses, more restaurants, more stores selling souvenir tat, and more golf carts buzzing around, but essentially, it is still Isla. 

The islanders are kind and generous. The food is delicious. The weather is perfect for this chilly Canadian. The scenery is gorgeous. Isla Mujeres is still very dear to me.

This trip was a mix of happy tears and heart-wrenching memories of my adventurous and romantic life with Lawrie. But I am glad I went. It was enjoyable to reconnect with some of my amazing pals. 

I missed seeing a few folks, but I am planning to return this winter. See you then! 

Cheers, Lynda

Top 100 Canadian Women Authors, Top 40 Mexico guides (But it's a memoir more than a guidebook.)

The humble beginnings and true-life tale of Sparky, hero of the Isla Mujeres Mystery Series

Chapter 4, 

December 2013

Oh no, the cat-doctor

“We should take him to the veterinarian to be checked out,” the lady said. “He could have medical problems that need to be treated.”

I’d just been bathed with nice-smelling stuff, and the lady was drying my soft, clean fur with a fluffy towel. It felt good. I wasn’t sure what the man and woman were talking about. I hoped it wasn’t the cat-doctor. The way Tommy smirked when he said that name terrified me.

“I’ll come with you,” he said. “He may get frightened riding in a vehicle.”

“That would be helpful since we don’t have a harness for him yet.” The lady tidied up the towels and put away the bottles of liquids that she had used to wash me. “They don’t make appointments, so we may have to wait a bit, but it’s important.”

“I agree.”

“Okay, let’s go,” she said. She picked me up and carefully carried me outside to a funny little vehicle that didn’t have any doors, a proper windshield, or much of anything. She put me on her lap and said, “We have to leave room for our golf cart driver.”

I wanted to tell them I understood. We were going for a drive in a carrito de golf. I’d seen many golf carts, but I’d never ridden in one. My previous owner had a moto, a scooter, and I would stand in the footwell while the man drove; sometimes another human friend rode with us.

This man backed the little vehicle out onto the street and turned south. We passed a few of my regular places where I usually scrounge for food. I hadn’t crossed this street since my accident a year ago. When I was younger and didn’t know that the roads were dangerous for animals, a car hit me on my rump. I have a limp, and when I’m tired, I lift my right hind leg and run on three legs.

Our drive was very short, and I had fun riding in the carrito de golf, snuggled between two people who seemed to like me. We parked in front of a building with many brightly painted images of dogs and cats.

“The memory wall is filling up,” the woman said, nodding towards the paintings.

“Yes, it’s a nice way to help support the veterinary clinic and remember cherished pets,” the man agreed.

I looked at the wall. There were numerous pretty paintings of dogs and cats, but I could smell fear. Many sick and frightened pets came to this building.

Oh no! This had to be the evil cat-doctor that Tommy had warned me about.

I started to shake and tremble.

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Death in the Vineyards Mysteries

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The humble beginnings and true-life tale of Sparky, hero of the Isla Mujeres Mystery Series

 

Chapter 3 December 2013

Thomas King of the Beach

A little while later, the woman came to check on me. She leaned over and looked under the sofa. “Are you okay, Sparky?”

I grinned and fluttered the tip of my tail.

“Well, we need to find some medication for those ticks and fleas. Doggies and kitties can get very sick from bug bites,” she straightened up. “I’ll be back soon.”

A short time later, the lady returned, holding a small box. “Let’s see if you’ll eat this.” She opened the box and placed a dark, round object in front of my nose.

I sniffed it suspiciously and turned my head away. No. Not going to eat that thing, I thought. Too many of my hungry friends had gobbled up bad things and gotten sick.

“Hmm. Okay, let’s try something else.” She picked up the brown object and walked back into the house.

Soon she returned with another plate with just a bit of food. I was still full, but after living on my own for a while, I wasn’t going to turn down an offer of delicious chow. If I refused to eat, this might be the last meal she’d offer me.

I ate everything, and I was so full I burped. I didn’t yet know how to say "perdóneme," excuse me, in her language, so I lay back down for another siesta. Pretty soon, I could feel the nasty biting bugs letting go and dropping off my skin. It was a miracle.

When I woke up a little later, the grey cat strolled over to me. He was exactly my size and had big muscles like me. His long, thick fur made him look massive. His fierce yellow eyes studied me carefully.

“I know you have been coming into my house while your friend was looking after Chica and me for three weeks,” he said, staring at me with those enormous eyes. “I never properly introduced myself because I thought you would move on when my humans returned. My full name is Thomas the Cat, but you may call me Tommy.”

“Mucho gusto, Tómas,” I politely replied in Spanish, telling him I was pleased to meet him.

“As the oldest animal in this house, my humans asked my permission to adopt you,” he added, arching an eyebrow meaningfully at me. “I said yes, as long as you are well-behaved.”

“Gracias, Tómas,” I thanked him. “I promise, I’ll be good.”

“You’re welcome to live here as long as you don’t hurt or chase either Princess Chica or me.” He stretched out one of his massive front paws and flexed his toes so that I could see his very long and sharp claws.

Wow! Scary!

“These are my murder-mittens. If you try to hurt us, I will scrape them across your tender nose,” he said.

“I won’t bother you,” I truthfully promised.

“Good,” Tommy nodded and said, “then we can be friends.” He flicked his tail and jumped lightly onto the sofa cushions. “When you’re clean, our humans will let you sleep on the furniture, too.”

“Should I clean my fur in the ocean?” I asked. “I really want these people to like me.”

“No, just wait. The lady will bathe you, don’t get upset. It won’t hurt.” Tommy said. He settled into what looked like a nice, comfy position, put his head down on his front paws, then closed his eyes.

“Does she wash you when you get dirty?” I asked.

Tommy opened one eye and glared at me. “Don’t be ridiculous. Cats are self-cleaning. We lick our fur and keep ourselves very tidy.”

I tried to turn and lick my spine like a cat, but my body wouldn’t twist all the way around. “I wish I could be self-cleaning, too,” I muttered quietly, trying hard not to bother Tommy again.

Without opening his eyes, he said, “She'll take you to the cat-doctor soon.”

“The cat-doctor! What’s that?” I asked.

“You’ll see,” he replied.

I’m pretty sure he was smirking when he fell asleep.

~

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Isla Mujeres Mysteries

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Death in the Vineyards Mysteries

The humble beginnings and true-life tale of Sparky, hero of the Isla Mujeres Mystery Series: Gotcha Day!

 

Chapter 2: December 2013

That smells so good!

A few weeks later, I was exploring the beach, looking for something to put in my tummy. I caught the delicious scent of chicken cooking, and I followed my nose. The smell took me back to the nice white house on the beach and toward the kind man.

I was about to step inside the house when I noticed that a woman with short, curly hair was preparing the food. She wasn’t the friend who had been feeding me.

I was a little afraid, but I was so very hungry I had to take the risk. I lay down on a mat under the kitchen table and politely waited for the new woman to notice me. Please don’t chase me away.

The woman finally saw me and made a funny noise, “Hmph!” She pointed at the smaller cat and said, “Well, that’s Chica,” then pointed at the larger one. “This is Thomas, and who are you?” tilting her head like a puzzled dog.

I swished my short, bristly tail back and forth on the tile floor. I tried to answer her, “guau-guau, jau-jau.” It roughly translates to “woof-woof, ruff-ruff,” but she didn’t understand.

She laughed and picked up a square black object from the kitchen counter, then started talking to it. “So. A dog?”

I could hear the man’s happy voice coming from the black thing, “Yeah, his name is Sparky, and he’s yours. I’m returning to Japan, and I can’t take him with me.”

Chuckling at the man's words, she put the device back on the kitchen counter. She looked over at a bald man who was quietly sitting at the table. “This is Sparky, and he’s now our responsibility.”

Her laughter gave me hope. Maybe she wouldn’t yell at me or shoo me away.

The man leaned back in his chair so that he could see me hiding under the table. He smiled at me and said, “Hola, Sparky, you look hungry. I’m sure we have enough food to feed you, too.”

“Of course, we do,” the curly-haired woman said, with another chuckle.

She took three little white plates from a cupboard. She placed one scoop of food on each of two plates and a lot more on the third. I was so happy when she set the larger portion in front of me instead of giving it to the cats. It tasted awesome.

I ate and ate and ate until my tummy bulged, then I carefully scrubbed the plate clean with my tongue. Nearby was a bowl of fresh water, and I lapped up the cool liquid. My belly was full, and I felt so sleepy.

I didn’t want the friendly people to be mad at me for bringing beach sand and creepy crawlies into their home, so I went back outside to the patio. I crawled into a shady spot, under the sofa, where I felt safe.

I snoozed and had a pleasant siesta, a nap. I dreamed about being adopted by these kind people and never worrying again about my next meal or where I could safely sleep. It was a very restful siesta.

Isla Mujeres Mysteries

Or

Death in the Vineyards Mysteries