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Havanese are the national dogs of Cuba. To aficionados, like the kind New Mexico breeder, they are every bit the island treasure that is a fine Cohiba, and more. To Jonas, his new puppy was a
bundle of verve, an injection of hope, and a talisman granted to him by his mother.
The drive north was a riot. The portable kennel was big; the dog was not. The breeder promised us she would
eventually top out at ten or twelve pounds. From the looks of her I suspected half of it would be hair. She was a silky soccer ball with legs and a tail that curled up like an apostrophe above her ass. She treated
the kennel like she was a platinum rock star and it was a five-star hotel suite she was determined to trash. While Jonas continued to ponder names for the exuberant dog I silently tagged her Haldol. It would take a
healthy dose of the drug to dent her effervescent energy.
She made me laugh. She made Jonas laugh. It was all good.
(This is Stephen's dog, Abbey Road. For more information visit the Havanese Club of America.)
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