Cyclopsos

Chris and his golden retriever lived on Survivor, and for years was my closest neighbor in the anchorage of la Parguera, Puerto Rico. Ten-plus years my junior, Chris was working towards his doctorate in something to do with fish hatcheries; I never could get it straight. While Ruff Life remained anchored for more than a decade, moving only when she dragged or there was a hurricane coming, Chris would often take off for an impromptu sail (click here for some photos of life in the anchorage).

When Chris married, Vilsi wasn’t as enthralled with the idea of seasickness as he’d hoped, so Survivor was sold.  I painted this reminder for him before I left the island, and if you look closely you’ll see them steering in the back.

At one point the newlyweds tried breeding retrievers and hoped to make good money on the puppies. While flipping through my journals today I found a story jotted down in January 2005, relayed to me by my Captain:

"Chris’s puppy had an accident and his eye popped out.  Apparently there’s a Spanish word for a one-eyed being (we’ll use ‘Cyclopso’). They went to the vet and Vilsi, distraught, was speaking to a couple in the waiting room."

(Vilsi, sic): “Boo, hoo, who’ll want a Cyclopso?”

(Man): “It’ll be alright.”

(V): “No one will buy a Cyclopso. No one WANTS a Cyclopso!”

“Really, it’s not so bad.”

“Oohhh, how terrible, Cyclopsos’s are so sad, so hideous, (on and on).”

“”No, REALLY, it’s OK.  See?”  He removed his eyeglasses and taps his glass eye with the end of the frame.  "I'm a Cyclopso!"

“What did she say?”  I asked.

“Nothing.  She and Chris were too shocked even to speak about it until the next day.”