Dogs

One day at a local beach bar, while sipping a beer and eating a snack, I felt something brush by my leg. I looked under the table to find a dog starring back at me. I'd seen this pooch earlier that day, running up and down the shore through the waves. He was pretty cute, with blonde fur and a curvy tail. But one thing was missing -- he didn't have a collar. And if a dog doesn't have a collar in Brazil, it means it doesn't have a home. He was a street dog, one of the hundreds Ben and I have seen in the country since we arrived.

While we're surrounded by beauty and culture in Brazil, the troves of homeless animals are part of the country that isn't advertised in travel brochures or send home on postcards. Like in Mexico or parts of Europe (and probably lots of other place I haven't been to yet), there are tons feral animals living in the city.

The most common of these street-bound critters are dogs. Most are medium-sized and so mixed you can't tell what kind of breeds might be in them. There are also a lot of cats. Sadly, it's not uncommon to see these guys rummaging through garbage cans, sleeping in the shade or roaming the streets.

This kitty was in Lapa in Rio.

Yet furry animals aren't the only ones living without a home. The strangest street animal I've seen was a big, pink, feral pig. I thought I was crazy the first (and only) time I saw him rooting through the trash. At first I thought it was a giant, ugly dog, but then I caught a glimpse of its squished face and curly tail just before the bus passed it completely. Sabrina confirmed I wasn't crazy - phew - and that the pig is part of a hog colony that's been living in the neighborhood for more than a decade. They're just another type of animal that got away from its owner and learned to live on the street.

It's a sad situation that, at first, I thought Brazilians were cold-heartedly indifferent to. But soon, I was happy to realize that just because these animals don't have an owner doesn't mean they're not loved.

The five street dogs living in a pack behind a friend's apartment have a village of wooden dog houses the neighbors set out for them. At one abandoned house where a cat's been living with her kittens, someone provides food and blankets for the furry family. And I constantly see people at restaurants casually throw passing pooches bits of their food, including the restaurant workers.

Feeding some of our furry friends.

And the animals seem to love people right back. I've gotten to know some of the dogs in my neighborhood, which will trot up to my side and brush by me for a pat on the head before going along their merry way.

While I know the animals would have a better life with an owner -- and that their lives aren't easy or without trials -- I don't know if their lifestyle is quite as doomy and gloomy as I first suspected. If the homeless street dog at the beach is any comparison, they might even be happy.

After I found the dog sitting under the table, I said hello to him. He must have liked the attention, because he then plopped his head right in my lap. He wasn't begging for food, but instead just saying hi back. Ben and I fell in love, of course, and gave lots of pets, a bit of our food and a name: Seabiscuit.

Later, while we were walking back to the bus, we realized the dog was following us. Soon he was trotting right by our side. We thought he'd fallen for us, too. It was right around the time we were deciding how we could keep him and bring him home with us that Seabiscuit veered across the street toward the police station.

A few of the officers had come outside and were already down on their knees petting and playing with the dog. He gave them kisses on the face and wagged his tail like they were his best friends. A few minutes later, the dog was met by a passing surfer with the same shared enthusiasm.

Seabuscuit and his friend playing at the beach.

Now, we see Seabiscuit every time we go to the beach. And every time he's jaunting from person to person, saying hi and getting pets, before running back to play in the waves.