The Dogs of Puerto Vallarta

Reading Time: 3 minutes

By Michael Avery

A two-thousand-dollar settlement from my seventh car accident enabled me to buy a ticket to Mexico, where I planned to live for the winter and heal my broken heart after losing my mom to cancer. I had no idea how long I could live on the small bundle of traveler’s checks I carried with me in my wallet, but I set sail on this new adventure despite the inconvenience of a lonely headwind. 

One and a half months—that’s how long two thousand dollars lasted in the tourist town of Puerto Vallarta in 1985. My first choice had been Cancun; however, my plans abruptly changed when a hurricane swept through that coastal town not long before my departure date. 

I survived on my meager savings and a few key Spanish words that I remembered from high school. This allowed me to rent a room at a small hotel on the outskirts of town and order food at a nearby restaurant. Since I had given up alcohol by this time in my life and wasn’t interested in socializing, I kept to myself. 

By some cosmic coincidence, a realtor I knew from southern Oregon decided to move to Puerto Vallarta to sell time shares at Mismaloya Beach where the famous 1964 movie, “Night of the Iguana,” was filmed. We met occasionally for dinner, but I spent most of my time alone on the beach and writing in my journal. 

Sunsets are beautiful in Puerto Vallarta. Often I would remain on the beach until well after dark. I would contemplate, think about my mom, and speak inwardly to my Inner Teacher as best I could. During this time, I learned to appreciate this connection more and more. I found comfort in the fact that I was not completely alone in life. One evening, the Inner Teacher sent an unexpected gift. 

It was just after dark, and the beach was nearly deserted. A couple of stray dogs were lingering about, but almost no tourists. Seeing the many homeless animals in the tourist town tugged at my heart. I sang HU, an ancient name for the Creator, for a good half hour with my eyes closed while lying on my back on a worn hotel blanket. As I was falling asleep, I felt something brush lightly up against my right leg. I opened one eye and discovered that a dog had snuggled up next to my body! To my astonishment, another dog took his place on my left side. 

I continued singing HU and fell asleep appreciating the companionship, warmth, and love of these two animals. Then, the Inner Teacher sent even more love. When I awoke, I found two more dogs pressed up against my upper body on each side. The five of us basked in the love of HU a good portion of the evening. 

I remember Puerto Vallarta with fond memories. None are more special than “the night of the four stray dogs.” Their love helped heal my heart. I hope their lives are better for the song of HU and the appreciation of a passing stranger. 

As I checked in my suitcases the morning I was leaving for Oregon, I looked in my wallet. I had exactly ten dollars and a dime in change. When the airline clerk informed me that a new airport fee had recently gone into effect for all outgoing flights, my heart sank. 

“That will be ten dollars,” the lady announced. 

So, I flew home with ten cents in my pocket and some colorful stories to share with friends. My trip to Mexico was money well spent for a healing of the heart. 

* From The Golden Book of HU, by Michael and Pichaya Avery