Tippyatou

  Tippyatou lies curled up, paws tucked into chest, chin resting on top of paws, bathing in the warm glow of a lone street light.  Her home, the pavement sidewalk in front of an inconspicuous office building is quiet tonight.
  Just hours earlier, cars sat wedged together along the roadside - like tetis blocks.  Water bag sellers and coffee carts rolled by.  Coffee thick with sugar oozes from cup to cup.  A constant stream of taxis pulling in and out from the curb fitting just one more character into their already jam-packed ride.  Amidst the commotion, Tippyatou seeks reprieve from the hot sun underneath a car.    A semi-peeled orange, sucked dry of it's juice lands on the ground just feet from Tippyatou's face.  Jackpot.  Another meal.

  I first met Tippyatou just days before Tippy Powell left this earth on January 18th, 2013.  Similar colour to Tippy, she is a typical brown street mutt as seen everywhere in Conakry.  She first caught my attention as she was crippled.  Her hind left leg permanently bent straight back and her front right leg lame, unable to take any weight, she hobbled around on her two decent legs.  Shockingly pathetic looking.  Not much meat on her, her ribs distinctly visible.  I could tell that she had been nursing a litter recently.  She has a growth about the size of a fist sticking out of her rear - possibly a tumour, or as a friend suggested, a prolapsed uterus.  My heart went out to her and I wanted to take her back to the ship to have one of our expert surgeons operate on her leg.  I left her with a sad heart in the street that night.


 As my tales of the crippled dog flowed to my coworkers and other crew mates, I soon realized that many have also noticed this same mutt.  I returned on multiple occasions to this same street corner and realized that this is her home.  Sleeping under the cars during the day and bathing in the street lamp at night.  I decided that rather than call her "the crippled dog," I should give her a name.  Naturally I favoured the name Tippy.  The "atou" was added for African effect.

 
 Surely she must die soon.  How can she survive?  How can she support her puppies?


  One day, after the major traffic had left the streets but before the sun went down, I set out on a walk and came across Tippyatou scavenging through the trash, finding bits and pieces to nibble.  She washed her meal down with a drink from the roadside puddle.  Even though she does a pretty good job of surviving on her own, she likely has friends that give her food out of pity.  Still alive since the first time I noticed her 3 months ago, she must be ingesting enough nutrients for her needs.  (After all, lying about all day doesn't require the largest amount of energy.)

  Tippyatou's story does not end here.  As she continues to live, I will keep all of you updated on my new friend.  Just in case you were wondering, no, I have never touched her.  Even thought I spent $170 X 3 for my beloved rabies shots, I still would prefer not to venture near that territory.  Tippyatou will remain at a safe distance.  I do not want to forever mar my loving image of dogs.

                                                               
                                                   R.I.P. Tippy