Delightful Spanish Softies

After the holiday, it’s time to write about it. I need to think about what aspects to select and what to say about them. I’ll probably need to do more research as well. That part I’ll really enjoy, because I always love putting my own experience into a broader context than I found at the time. Usually it makes me want to go back.

At the moment I feel that, if I do make another visit, it’ll have to be at a different time of year. Menorca was having a heat wave.

“It’s not usually as hot as this,” one of the holiday reps told us. For us this meant we couldn’t walk as much as usual and it certainly curtailed some of the sightseeing. The Menorcans are aware of this. When we visited the site of an enormous fort and were heading back from its furthest point, walking along a trail with no shelter from the glaring sun, a minibus approached and stopped beside us.

“Are you ok walking?” asked its slim and attractive female driver. If I hadn’t been standing next to him, I’m convinced my hubby would have hopped in beside her with no hesitation.

Another surprise was meeting an animal loving Spaniard who brought his dog to the terrace bar of our hotel at around 7 pm every day. One day he came alone and we hoped the dog was ok.

“Oh yes. I left him because it’s so hot and he’s been playing in our pool all afternoon.” Carlos spoke near perfect English. Originally from mainland Spain, he had moved to England as a young man and lived in Ealing for 30 years before his English wife persuaded him to come and live in Menorca.

His dog was a black and grey spaniel with no tail. It was very friendly and adored children. When a small person came near, instead of having a wagging tail, it had a Renault Clio backside, if you know what I mean.

“We had an alsation here as well but not for long. At 18 months, he developed a tumour on the brain. I had to hold him and stroke him while they put the injection in.” Carlos was clearly still very upset about that. “They are like family, aren’t they?

“This one I wanted to get a haircut. Would have cost €35, but my wife said no. He goes on the top and second step of the pool to get cool but he won’t go any further. Must have had a bad experience at some time.

“We got him from the rescue centre. That place is so busy and so big. We’re always finding abandoned dogs and cats. It’s not the Spanish. They don’t go away and leave them. It’s the English who just come for six months and then go back home.”

So much for our reputation as the softest nation in the world when it comes to animals.