Doggie Dog, not Snoop

This afternoon, I talked with Mr Hodge, my Third World coach, now from Ohio, originally from Liberia. He wondered how I felt about hurricane preparation since I grew up in a paradise, one that trained me for Isla, I like to say, even for hokey parades.
It's all good, Mr Hodge. I told him about Skype and how he could call family in Liberia with it. Or his sister in Norway. He'll check into it.
Jose is coming back tomorrow to do more deep cleaning. He us also using his time here to improve his English and is amused that I call Lora, doggie dog. The only other he ever heard of was Snoop Doggie Dog. He listened to the explanation of the diminuitive and similar examples. Then, to work.
Yesterday, he cleaned the bodega and fridge and transferred all the stuff from the apartments back to the fridge.
He fired up the generator and took Lora, twice, to get gasoline. Then we dropped off laundry and got rosticeria chicken and took carrot juice to Amelia.
We were no sooner done eating than the Maya plant lady came and drew a crowd to the front of the house. As a young man who rents a room in Centro, he was a bit amazed by life in the colonia. He rather liked it, being from the puebla next to the town wher you catch the Holbox ferry.
He played a bit with Lora before leaving. And I went to Federico's to collect a couple kilos of copied documents before my immigration lawyer called to ask if we could switch the appointment to this afternoon. I said I preferred Monday and he seemed to as well. Then, I tried to get Lora to come in for the night.
She had to be tricked. After a half hour of coaxing, I got in the golf cart while keeping the leash hidden. She jumped right in, I hooked her up, and in we went!
This morning, Lora floja went for a run. But she kept stopping to sit. It wasn't even hot yet when we stopped to see Rubi and her master. They played. A dog a day, another playmate for Lora, still waiting for her vet with the doggie chews.