I love dogs. I grew up with dogs. Kent and I have had several over our 45 years of marriage. But during the years we were raising children, it often felt like the dogs needed me more than I needed them. Over time, I’ve come to appreciate the calming influence a dog brings to me.
An “Ugly” Dog
The first time we saw a Mexican hairless breed was in San Pancho, Mexico. Recently, we came across another while walking along the lake. My first thought? That is one unusual-looking dog. They are hairless, with wrinkled skin and a dark, solid color. I later learned they are called Xoloitzcuintli (pronounced show-low-eats-QUEENT-lee)or Xolo (show-low) for short—the Mexican Hairless Dog. Curious, I looked them up.
It turns out that this breed dates back thousands of years to the Aztec and Maya civilizations. They were considered sacred—believed to guide souls through the afterlife. They appear in ancient art, burials, and mythology. They were nearly lost after the Spanish conquest, but were preserved and are now a national symbol of Mexico. As I read more, something shifted. What I had first seen as “ugly” became something meaningful. Historical. Even beautiful in its own way. And when I met one in person again, I saw what mattered most. It was a sweet dog.
Street Dogs
When we first visited Ajijic, we developed a simple morning routine—coffee in the plaza. Every morning, there was a group of dogs. Different sizes, different breeds, all gathered in the same place. Some guarded bones from the butcher. Others played. There was often a feisty little Chihuahua trying to keep order. We were told they show up every morning—except Sundays. That’s when the butcher shop is closed.
These are street-smart dogs. Some have homes. Many do not. And yet—they look healthy, relaxed, and content. They seem to belong.
One dog, in particular, stood out to us. He had a unique, map-like pattern across his back. The locals call him “Mapa.” We started seeing him on our daily walks—trotting through town like he had somewhere important to be. When we moved here and saw him again, it felt like seeing an old friend.
Recently, we learned more of his story. Mapa had been badly injured. Several people in the community stepped in—helping pay for veterinary care and giving him a place to recover. That touched me. Mapa, like so many street dogs here, is beautiful, happy, well-behaved, and non-agressive.
Many of these dogs don’t belong to one person. They belong to the community.
Store owners and neighbors feed them, give them water, and provide places to rest.
Dogs have always been part of our lives. Here, they are part of the fabric of daily life.
Sometimes we see dogs that remind us of the ones we’ve loved over the years, and those memories come back in waves.
Someday, we may own another dog. But for now… we are happy to appreciate the ones all around us in this near-perfect place to be a dog.
— Judi
Comments
8 responses
Hey I loved this article. I love dogs too!
Hola Ken. Thanks for reading and making comment. I hope you and your family are well.
Hola Judi. There is a man who comes to the plaza and several of the “street” dogs bark and growl at him. We all know he’s done something bad to one or more of these sweet dogs and they remember. I love the street dogs. Dogs on leashes here are not socialized and can be the aggressors. I love seeing the street dogs waiting for the butcher shop to open; they never fight for the first bone.
Hola Donna!! It’s good to hear from you. I look forward to seeing you when you return.
❤️
Hey Bro. I love you.
Thanks Judi for sharing your love of dogs and the story of the dogs in Ajijic. I used to think I was a cat person – but thanks in large part to you and Kent, I found that I too love dogs.
That would be great! Yay!