When you walk a dog, you notice things.
You notice people. You notice neighbourhoods. You notice what has changed and what hasn’t. You notice the things that make a place unique. You notice the distinct flavour of life around you—what’s important, what’s not so important, and the culture that gives a place its character.
For many years, we spent part of each year in Anguilla, a small and beautiful island in the Caribbean. While walking along roads, beaches, and village streets, I accumulated a collection of stories that still make me smile.
Some involve the local telecommunications company.
Some involve a clock that insisted the island was experiencing Arctic temperatures.
And some involve dogs.
But before I get to the dogs, let me tell you a few stories about island life.
Life in Anguilla in the Caribbean
People often dream about life in the Caribbean.
They picture white sand beaches, turquoise water, warm sunshine, gentle trade winds, and not a care in the world.
And they are absolutely right.
What they don’t picture is the telecommunications company.
On the first topic…
Now, to be honest, if you’re enjoying the five-star hotels on the island and staying only for a week or two at most, you don’t ever have to deal with – or even think of – the telecommunications company.
However, long-term visitors and residents eventually become very familiar with the local provider of television, internet, and telephone service.
“Familiar” may not be quite the right word.
Let’s say we developed a relationship.
Any change to an account often involved a trip to the office. The trip usually involved standing in a long line. After the long line came a conversation with an agent. Sometimes we understood one another perfectly. Sometimes we didn’t. Usually, however, we left reassured that everything would be taken care of.
Then we would get home and discover that nothing had been taken care of.
This would require another trip to the office, another long line, another conversation, and another assurance that everything would be fine.
After a few years, we adjusted. We learned that things would eventually get sorted out. We also learned not to become too attached to schedules.
One year, some friends rented the apartment below us. They had visited Anguilla many times before and loved the island. They also had rented down the beach in another villa. The internet service at that location had always been arranged for them (by us, as it happens). So this was their first real experience dealing directly with the telecommunications company.
They returned from the office positively glowing.
“They were wonderful,” the wife announced. “Everything is arranged. The technician is coming first thing tomorrow morning. It was easy peasy!”
I paused.
Years of experience suggested that this might be a slightly premature conclusion and definitely not a term I would use to describe the service.
The next morning arrived.
No technician.
The following day arrived.
Still no technician.
Before long, our friends found themselves standing in the same line at the same office, asking the same questions we had been asking for years – and with the same results.
Eventually, I couldn’t resist.
“So,” I asked, “how is that easy peasy service working out for you?”
Experience, as it turns out, is a wonderful teacher.
The time/temperature tower
On the island, years ago, the same telecommunications company also erected a large clock and temperature tower at one of the island’s busiest roundabouts. Since Anguilla is a very small island, almost everyone passed it regularly.
The manager proudly asked his friend — another island executive — what he thought of the new tower.
The answer was refreshingly honest.
“The temperature is always 82 degrees,” he said, “and, honestly, nobody really cares what time it is.”
In fairness, he had a point.
The Caribbean temperature seemed permanently fixed somewhere around 82°F, and island life tends to operate on a schedule that is considerably more relaxed than that of Toronto or New York.
For years, the tower faithfully displayed 82°F.
Then one day, it malfunctioned.
Instead of 82°F, the sign now displayed −99°F.
This was remarkable, considering that Anguilla had somehow become colder than Antarctica.
The sign remained that way. Day after day. Week after week. Month after month.
Visitors drove by and laughed. Residents drove by and shrugged.
Apparently, nobody felt a pressing need to correct the fact that the island was allegedly experiencing one of the coldest temperatures in recorded human history.
Eventually, the display was disconnected altogether.
A little snag – or not so little?
There was also the occasional spectacle of a telecommunications truck leaving the office, driving through the village, and snagging the very overhead wires it was supposed to be maintaining. In one memorable incident, the truck caught a sagging cable and promptly disconnected service to a sizeable portion of the neighbourhood.
The result was almost poetic.
The company then had to dispatch another crew to repair the damage caused by its own truck.
You couldn’t invent that. Well, you could—but nobody would believe it.
They are not isolated incidents. Together they create a picture of island life:
- The service appointment that isn’t.
- The clock that always reads 82°F.
- The clock that later reads −99°F.
- The truck that removes its own infrastructure.
- The endless office visits and long waits in line.
And yet, oddly enough, these are some of the very things that make people fall in love with the island.
The “Tranquillity Wrapped in Blue” of Anguilla.
Island life moves at its own pace. People are patient. Problems eventually get solved. Most days, the sun shines, the sea sparkles, and nobody seems especially worried about the clock.
But there is one aspect of island life that is not quite so charming.
Many of the island’s dogs roam freely. Some have owners. Some appear not to. They wander through neighbourhoods, along roadsides, and across beaches that visitors imagine to be pristine. And, naturally, dogs do what dogs do.
Unlike a clock displaying −99°F, however, this is a problem that does not simply make people smile and shake their heads.
Dog waste left on beaches, sidewalks, and public areas creates health concerns, environmental concerns, and an unpleasant experience for residents and visitors alike.
A responsible dog owner carries a simple poo bag and cleans up after their dog. It is not complicated.
It does not require a service appointment, a tower, a technician, or a truck.
Just a little consideration for everyone else.
Sometimes the smallest things make the biggest difference. If only solving every problem on the island were that “easy peasy.”
The bag I use on every walk is the Earth Rated lavender poop bag, available on Amazon Canada — simple, reliable, and exactly the kind of small consideration that makes a difference.
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