Out of Captivity : Surviving 1,967 Days in the Colombian Jungle

368 OUT OF CAPTIVITYwho’d wandered into one of our temporary camps. I immediately identifiedwith the little guy. Like us, he was plagued by nuches and insectbites. He reminded me of a stubby-legged yellow Labrador retrieverwith his characteristic “smile” and pleasant disposition. Beneath hispatchwork of fur and exposed skin, I could see his ribs. He smelledlike a hound from hell, but there was something about him that drewus together.I gave him the name Tula—which means burlap bag—because of hiscolor and the coarse, chewed-up nature of his fur. I didn’t want to admitthat he hung close to me just because I fed him, but in time I thinkhe really enjoyed my company as much as I did his. I spread out a bitof black plastic on the ground, and Tula slept there each night. Whenwe got to the Reunion Camp, everybody took a liking to the animal I’dcome to think of as my dog. Tula was like any dog, a real chowhound,but he was respectful, never stealing food and waiting patiently for anyscrap we would toss him. Arteaga was another dog lover, and he helpedme get Tula in better shape. He got rid of the nuche worms, and theFARC gave us used motor oil to clean up his mange. Within a fewweeks, Tula no longer smelled so bad and had started to fatten up; heprovided a pleasant diversion from the stress of camp life.Tula was a real trooper, and he enjoyed the bongo rides, standing upin the bow of the boat stretched to his full height with his nose heldproudly in the air, looking like the bowsprit on a sailing vessel. EventuallyEnrique decided that Tula was better off with him, and sinceEnrique had easier access to food than I did, he managed to lure thedog away from me. Tula still wandered from camp to camp and personto person, but he no longer slept near me. I didn’t mind so much; itseemed that like us, Tula was doing whatever he could to get by.Initially, focusing on Tula and keeping to our routine made things abit more bearable, but after a few weeks, I realized that maybe the chainswere having a greater effect on me than I thought. About a month intoour chaining, sometime near the Fourth of July, I was sitting and read-