Stuck in Paradise, From Wags to Riches: The Saga of Lester Gustavo Cartago Joseph

It was March 9, 2011. I was on a service trip in Costa Rica, performing veterinary care on local pets. At our makeshift clinic in Cartago, where surgery tables were folding tables, lights were based on windows, and sterile drapes were garbage bags, a small dog had entered the scene. He was tan, about 20 pounds, around five-years-old, and begged everyone for love and attention. Many of the natives just shooed him away, but the volunteers gave him the time of day. My friend Sarah fed him some of her beef jerky, I scratched him behind the ears, and Brittany decided to love on him as well. We thought nothing of it and finished up the day.

Then, on March 10, he returned to our clinic. I cannot imagine why. All of his friends were getting spayed/neutered, vaccinated, and the dreaded nail clip, and yet he still insisted on hanging around with us. He then sat in my lap, looked up at me with his big brown eyes, and said, “Please, can I come back with you?” I picked him up, held him like a baby in my arms, and said, “Yes, you can come with me.” I learned a very valuable life lesson that day: You never find your animals - they find you.

Sarah decided to name the dog “Lester” after our trip leader Lester, who was integral in arranging the dog’s affairs. Continental Airlines explained the $125 fee for carry-on and that everything was all set for my flight on Sunday, March 13.

They lied.

After paying my exit tax and being escorted by one of the airport staff members, I learned quickly that the dog was NOT allowed on carry-on. He and his carrier were too large. Although not ideal, I reluctantly agreed to check him into cargo. (I later found out the $125 for carry-on became over $500 for cargo.) We then ran into two problems: Cargo was not open on the weekends and in order to transport an animal, this airport required 24 hours to process paperwork.

After hearing the news, I pondered my situation. I knew I could not just let this dog back into the streets. We had gone from Cartago to San Jose, he would be lost and confused. Lester was not merely "good with people," he craved human contact. Kicking him out into the real world would be doing a disservice to him. The only other option was to re-book my flight for first thing Tuesday morning. For the next two days, I would live at the San Jose airport alone with this dog.

The same man that had escorted us through the exit tax saw me holding the dog like a baby in my arms. He told me, “Don’t worry. I’ll find you a place to stay. A young girl like you should not be staying alone in this airport. It’s dangerous.” This man’s name was Luis Gustavo Alfaro, or Gus for short. Gus was the operations manager of the San Jose airport and put me in touch with his boss, Tom, the head honco. I realized that I had to blindly trust the kindness of strangers and just have faith that these were good people. Tom, his lovely wife Terri, their cat Cheddar, and their yorkie Lily took us in and treated us like royalty.

Upon entering Tom and Terri’s home, I noticed that every room in their house had a dog/cat bed and their animals had been beyond spoiled. From that moment on, I knew that Lester and I were in good hands. We were “stuck” in paradise for two days. During these days, we celebrated Gus’s 36^th birthday. I have never seen a man so appreciative of a simple cake before. Gus said that nobody had made him a birthday cake in 20 years! I overlooked the skyline of San Jose at night. (I also got a glimpse at Chuck Norris’s mom’s house which was in the area.) Lester contently basked in the sun a majority of the day, and would sleep on the floor at night.

I don’t think he ever knew what a bed was until then. Just by the way he stared at me with those big brown eyes, I could feel the presence of his eternal gratitude. I thank Lester every day for entering my life; he has enhanced it tremendously. Lester greets all the neighbors, friends, and family with open arms and says “I love you” to everyone. Today, I reside in Lester Gustavo Cartago Joseph’s humble abode. He relishes in gourmet dog food, owns a beautiful raincoat, and even allows me to curl up in his bed.