Almost every foreigner that I have come to know has at one time or another tried to help a suffering dog or cat. Even before coming to Costa Rica, I rescued animals on the streets. I have rambled across intersections and down boat docks after stray dogs. When I lived downtown San José, five zaguates (mutts) lived across the street in a falling down house with a tree growing through the roof.The house was surrounded by a 10-foot high cyclone fence, topped with ribbons of barbed wire. Two dogs lived in the front yard, and three were caged along the side that I rarely saw, but usually heard. The owner of the rickety house told me he rescued the dogs from the streets.My husband and I named one dog Gabby, for his goatee, and the other we called Blue, for his one blue eye. Gabby and Blue’s owner would disappear for months at a time. Though I do not officially speak DOG, I do have a basic understanding of the language. My heart ached as I listened to the lonely barks; the howls even when there was no moon. Night after night, I couldn’t sleep.A woman did appear several times a week. When her raggedy green car pulled alongside the house, the dogs were crazed with joy. The woman unlocked the gate; stomped her foot to shoo the dogs; filled the bowls with food; poured water into a soup pot and left. Once in my feeble Spanish, I complained about the poor treatment of the dogs (she pick up right away on the fact that I wasn’t a native Spanish speaker) and told me (in English) that her boyfriend would be back soon. Then, she left.About once a week, Gabby or Blue escaped. While the one dog galloped through the streets, the other barked nonstop until his return. In order to end the incessant barking, we had to return the escapee back into the yard. We called the woman who visited the dogs and filled the soup pot, but the phone was disconnected. Soon, my husband and/or I could deposit one/or both dogs back into the yard in about 10 minutes. (This included dragging the ladder from the garage, finding rocks to close up the newly dug escape routes, and depositing one and/or both dogs back into the muddy, feces ridden yard.)Every time Blue and Gabby escaped, I did not want to return them to their life. Who would adopt these dogs at the overstressed animal shelter? Didn’t they have a home already? Many dogs were worse off than Blue and Gabby. I questioned whether I could save the world, even a little part of it.Since many dogs live outside in Costa Rica, neighborhoods acclimate to the sounds of barking dogs. Coco often goes to sleep (and wakes up) with the sound of dogs yapping. I, on the other hand, feel extremely tense if a dog barks more than two minutes. One night, Gabby escaped at 11 p.m – the third time in one week. Blue barked. And barked. At 1 a.m., I kicked off my covers, walked outside and stood under the street light. Gabby ran up and down the street. I lured him close with a biscuit and grabbed the rough of his neck. Unable to find the escape route, I placed Gabby in my yard. Now, both dogs barked.I gathered towels, leashes, rope and put on pointy tennis shoes. I spotted an opening on top of the fence free of barbed wire. I inserted my toe into the links of the fence and climbed. I dropped the last ten feet into the weedy yard. Blue bounced as if to say: Some to love! Someone to love! He jumped at my shirt and ripped a hole in it. I wrapped Blue in towels, securing his brisket and belly in ropes and leashes, and fastened him to my stomach like a backpack. Holding Blue, I felt his muscles melt under my caress. We stood, Blue and I, under the clear night, and I rocked him for a minute and told him what an attractive, beautiful, and wonderful dog he was. I walked up and down the fence that seemed much higher than 10 feet. Gabby, back in my yard, screeched and yelped. It was time to leave.The weight of Blue pressed on my stomach. The fence looked a lot taller from the inside out. I paced up and down and doubted if I could finish my mission successfully, when I spotted a hole I had missed. I unwrapped Blue and set him down. He bounced a circle around me and bit another hole in my shirt. I promised him I would return. I climbed back over the fence; coaxed Blue to the hole with a biscuit; pulled on his paws; and tugged at his body until he popped out the other side. I reunited Gabby and Blue in my back yard and gave them food, water and towels to sleep on. I would have bruised and sore muscles in the morning, but this night, I would finally sleep.I bathed the dogs the next morning and debated what to do. Call the animal shelter? Find them a home? I knew that our neighbor would only replace these dogs with new ones. Gabby and Blue had escaped before, but they had always returned to the house that was falling down – it was their home. They had food, water, a fenced in yard, and they had each other. I had failed to make the world run according to my plans, but maybe Gabby and Blue knew of something I did not. “All knowledge, the totality of all questions and answers, is contained in the dog,” wrote Kafka. As long as we lived across from the falling down house, I waved to Gabby and Blue and brought them a biscuit and gave what I could to a small, falling-down corner of the world.