My recent two-week trip to Ecuador with my husband was an unforgettable experience. From the stunning landscapes of the Andes Mountains to the unique wildlife of the Galapagos Islands, every moment was captivating. Beyond the natural wonders, it was the warmth of the Ecuadorian people and another ubiquitous presence that truly caught my attention: the Street Dogs.
These animals, which I readily termed “street dogs” due to their constant presence in and around the streets, became a focal point of my observations on the mainland. It was almost miraculous how these street dogs navigated the bustling traffic of cars, trucks, motorcycles, and buses. Witnessing them darting out of the way at the last possible second was a frequent, breath-holding spectacle. Their street savvy was undeniable, reminiscent of urban wildlife like ravens or crows, always just managing to avoid danger.
The sheer number of street dogs was striking. Imagine walking down an average city block and encountering anywhere from 25 to 30 dogs. They were everywhere – lounging on sidewalks, confidently crossing streets, foraging for food, rummaging through garbage bags, and engaging in their own canine social interactions. In the larger city of Quito, many street dogs seemed independent and purposeful, always appearing to be on a mission. Conversely, in smaller villages, the street dogs were generally more approachable, often content to simply relax nearby and observe passersby.
One fascinating aspect of these Ecuadorian street dogs was the variation in their appearance from town to town. While the consistent presence of street dogs remained, their physical characteristics differed. In one town, a strong resemblance to German Shepherds suggested a dominant genetic influence. Another town seemed populated by smaller dogs, many exhibiting Poodle-like traits. In yet another village, I was amused to notice Shar Pei-like facial features appearing in many of the local street dogs.
While most appeared remarkably healthy and resilient, I did observe some street dogs with skin conditions and occasional instances of thinness or visible disabilities. However, a striking contrast to what is often seen in the United States was the complete absence of canine obesity among these street dogs.
Seeking to understand more about these ubiquitous animals, I engaged in conversations with several Ecuadorians. I learned that, contrary to initial assumptions, most of these street dogs are actually considered owned. Though they spend their days roaming the streets, they belong to someone, primarily for property protection. This form of human-animal bond differs significantly from the companion animal relationships common in many Western cultures. Despite this more utilitarian relationship, I frequently observed tail wags and excited wiggles from the street dogs when they interacted with their owners, even if the affection wasn’t always overtly reciprocated by the humans.
While these dogs have homes to return to at night, their days are predominantly spent navigating the streets. I was told that owners typically provide some food, but the street dogs largely depend on scavenging for sustenance. Commercially prepared dog food is often too expensive for many Ecuadorians, so it’s a rarity in their diet.
Almost all the street dogs I encountered were unneutered. Many females appeared to be nursing mothers. Surprisingly, I rarely saw puppies on the streets. When I inquired about this, I received varied explanations. Some suggested puppies are kept close to home, while others offered the starker possibility that unwanted puppies are often killed. It’s likely that both scenarios occur.
My observations were limited to Ecuador, but I’ve since discovered that this phenomenon of street dogs is widespread throughout Latin America. When I raised the topic of neutering as a means of population control with Ecuadorians, responses varied. Some agreed that the number of street dogs was excessive and intervention was needed. Others, particularly those from indigenous communities in the Andes, expressed a cultural preference for having many dogs for protection and were resistant to the idea of surgical castration, particularly the removal of testicles. This made me consider if Zeuterin, a chemical sterilization method that preserves the testicles and some testosterone production, might be a more culturally acceptable compromise in such contexts.
The street dogs of Ecuador left a lasting impression. I’m still left with numerous unanswered questions. Why did I never witness any aggression from these dogs towards humans or other dogs, despite their large numbers and sometimes challenging environment? What is the average lifespan of these street dogs? How do they maintain such apparent health on inconsistent and unbalanced diets? What happens when these animals become sick or injured, or when a mother dog faces complications during birth? Are they left to suffer, or is there a system for humane euthanasia? My curiosity is piqued, and something tells me a return trip to Latin America is needed to further explore the lives of these fascinating street dogs.
Disclaimer: For any concerns regarding your pet’s health, always consult with your veterinarian, who remains your most reliable resource for ensuring their well-being.
