The Humanitarian Condor

Condor, a Bahamian Rescue Dog who kept me safe.

In September 1975, I was sitting in a bungalow next to the Bahamas Humane Society compound at Nassau after a long flight from the UK. It was my first day as chief inspector. In these situations, when you find yourself exhausted and alone away from home and have to make a decision quickly, the idea that seemed good at the time is now losing its appeal.

The back door to the kitchen was opened and I thought I would be able to handle no more visitors. I then heard nails tapping on the floor tiles and saw a sleek, black female enter the living room. She looked like a black crossbreed Labrador with a three-inch tail that was probably cut off as a puppy.

The beginning of a special relationship

She stared at me soulfully from the doorway. After a few moments, she walked into the room and flopped down on the cool floor tiles. She was encouragd by my non-committal response. Although I had politely introduced myself, I could tell that she was examining me as if a big decision was about to be made. I stared back at her, and since that time she has never left my side.

On that first night, I didn’t know who owned her or what her name was, but I enjoyed her company. She listened to my concerns and seemed to be happy to do so. She remained in the same position, despite the fact that it was our first date. It was as if she were instinctively guarding the doorway. She was a dog who had attitude and bad habits, but she became a darling as I got to know. In the end, it was me who adopted her rather than vice versa.

Condor is my constant shadow

The next day, I learned that her name is Condor. She was one of the yard dogs. But it appeared that she changed her mind quickly when she felt like it. Perhaps she spotted an opportunity for a better relationship. She was my constant shadow and she was always there to protect me. I loved having her with me. She was always with me on my social and work visits. (She hated to miss a party.) And she even came along for the drive-in movies, despite the fact that she slept through them. She was very vain, and she hated to be left out of photographs.

The most memorable times I had with her were the patrols we did together, speeding up to incidents while singing along to radio. She loved to hang her head out the window, just like all dogs. But she was even happier when I stopped at a deserted beach where she could swim, chase or retrieve driftwood. She was a water dog who loved the sea. But it caused her regular infections and irritations, which I had treat. I did not want to limit her favorite pleasure.

Condor enjoyed our time on Paradise Island.

We both loved our time together, especially my weekly afternoons when we would go to the western end Paradise Island Beach which was usually deserted in the 1970s (there were no Atlantis or Club Med at the time), and swim and snorkel. She would walk in front of us with a driftwood in her mouth as we walked to the lighthouse. Condor was unable to grasp the concept of snorkeling and I only saw her legs thrashing in front me, often ramming and tipping over. I was looking forward to escaping the trauma and stress of my demanding work for a little while. It was an idyllic time.