This afternoon I saw a dead dog in the street. It lay in the gutter a couple of blocks from my Casa De Particular, flies swarming around it as it slowly decomposed in the early afternoon sun. Seeing it there made me wonder how it got there. Did it die right there in the gutter? Did it die somewhere else and its owner left it there in an open grave beside the pavement? Did someone else kill it and leave it there? Was it a family pet or just a stray?
Out of respect for the dead, I decide to have a hamburger instead of a perro caliente (hot dog) for my pre-theatre dinner this evening. I have noticed that Cubanos eat a lot of hamburguesas. There is a diner style café in Cienfuegos which has nothing on the menu except hamburgers and a few soft-drink refrescos. A steady stream of customers pass through the café whilst I am there. Some sit and eat three or four hamburgers. Others take away plastic carrier bags filled with them. I eat two and try not to think about the dead dog in the street.
