Something I did not anticipate about Honduras is the number of stray dogs that would somehow become part of my daily life.

At this point, I’m starting to think it’s less of a coincidence and more of a pattern.

During our second week here, we visited a river, and that’s where I met a stray dog that I immediately decided to name Pig. I’m not entirely sure why that name felt right in the moment, but it stuck, and now she goes by a variety of names depending on who you ask.

What started as a brief interaction quickly turned into something much more permanent. Pig began following us… everywhere. She waits for us, runs after our trucks when we leave, and has become strangely attached to our group. This is especially ironic because the majority of my squad does not share my same enthusiasm for her presence. To be fair, their concerns are valid; she has mange and likely numerous other diseases, but despite all of that, there’s something about her that I can’t help but find endearing.

Then, just when I thought I couldn’t possibly encounter another dog, we were walking down the mountain after visiting a school, and I found one. Again.

Naturally, I named him Chicken.

Unlike Pig, Chicken appeared to be relatively healthy, which made me even more determined to bring him back with us. Unfortunately, my efforts were unsuccessful. However, he did follow us for a considerable distance, which I’ve chosen to interpret as a sign that I am, in fact, a trustworthy individual to stray animals.

At this point, I’ve had to accept that I seem to attract dogs wherever I go. I used to think being “highly favored” would look a certain way, but instead, it appears to involve being followed by animals that no one else wants.

Still, there’s something oddly meaningful about it. Even in the chaos, it feels like a reminder of how connection, no matter how unexpected, has a way of finding us.