I’m currently working on a story about a folk art/antique shop/junkyard near my home in San Miguel de Allende in central Mexico. I needed some portraits of Alfredo, the owner, and I thought it would be a good idea to include his ever-present shadow and constant presence, Drago, the doberman pinscher. I didn’t think much about it at the time. They were sitting together on an elevated platform, staring out at not much and everything all at once. It was just part of what I needed to do, in order to get some context on the storyline. It wasn’t until later that the impact of this one particular frame became apparent.
Shooters have this happen all the time – they say “I got the shot!” I hate those moments. They scare the hell out of me. The arrogance of those thoughts seems to always bite me on the rear end. I don’t know how those guys do it. I never ever seem to get “the shot.” The serious shots always seem to get me. I never see them coming until they’re already here waiting for me to catch up to them.
I was sitting at the computer watching the frames come up in the editing software, when all of a sudden, I saw this frame. The realization was palpable. It pushed me back in the chair. For some reason, I instantly thought of those images of German athletes taken by Leni Riefenstahl during the 36 Olympics. Those black and white low angles of the competitors made them look bigger than life. They became heroic in the book Olympia.
Alfredo and Drago seemed to blend heroically together as though they were the same living thing, which, of course, they are. Drago was a gift from a friend some years ago. He’s 4 years old now and he is statuesque in the surety of his dedication and his presence. Alfredo says, “I let Drago tell me if a stranger can be trusted. He knows instantly and he’s never wrong.” For walks in town, Drago crosses the street first and then turns and waits for Alfredo to cross. When Alfredo goes into a store, Drago waits outside. Drago is his partner. Drago loves Alfredo more than he loves himself, and he says so in every step, every glance, and every move.
Alfredo is dying and he says so. He is 57. When he was younger, he didn’t treat himself so well. As is the case for many of us, our own doing is often our own undoing. The docs say he should live every day as though it is his last, and it will be so too soon. There is nothing to be done. Alfredo accepts this and works as hard as he can to get the most out of what he has. I think Drago knows the truth and acts accordingly. He doesn’t judge. He accepts Alfredo as he is, not as what he could have been or should have been. Alfredo knows what Drago knows and it is love. As they face the future together, there is enlightened freedom in their relationship - Drago ever so slightly in the lead. "And I will wait for you, should I fall behind, wait for me." Bruce Springsteen
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