This is the continuation of last week's article The Blessings Man. (If you did not read it and would like to, for context, visit https://newsday.co.tt/2021/07/04/the-blessings-man/)

Last Sunday after reading that article, a friend WhatsApped me, writing: “I hope you found out that Pelican Bar used to be Pelican Reef. It was where Republic Bank is now in Crown Point.”

Later, someone in the community phoned me, also about Pelican Reef.

“You weren’t in Tobago when that existed?” she asked.

“No, I moved here in 2012.”

“Ohhh...” Her voice was full of nostalgia. “You just missed the sweet parts of Tobago. Crown Point was so nice then. It’s sad to see what it has become.”

She regaled me with a few tales from her Crown Point childhood – simple, wondrous, inspiring experiences enjoyed in a peaceful, natural setting – gone forever with a paradise lost to "development."

Understanding now what the Blessings Man had meant by "Pelican Pub," I drove to the area around Republic Bank, to see if I could find the "pup" he had mentioned. I wondered whether this case was current, or something stored in his memory from Pelican Reef times.

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Crown Point that Sunday afternoon was a ghost town. The only person visible for questioning was the man who sells fruit opposite Coco Reef.

“Have you seen a brown pup around here with a fishhook in its mouth?”

“A few days ago the madman was holding a dog across the road, trying to remove something from the mouth.”

Clearly he was speaking about the Blessings Man, and his description of the dog fitted that of a cute, small brown dog I see often in the area and who (as evidenced by her nipples) had recently had pups. The fruit man told me that she belongs to no one, but used to be fed by a woman living behind the bank, who had since moved. He suggested that I search that particular back street.

As I drove past Republic Bank, I noted that the only vehicle in the carpark was a Hilux with “Blessing after Blessing” printed in large text on its back windscreen. How fitting, considering that my encounter with the Blessings Man had led me there.

As I turned back to face the road, another Hilux pulled out in front of me. Emblazoned across its back windscreen was “Psalm 23” (ie “The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want...”) The seemingly connected messages were outstanding, as those vehicles were the only other ones on the road at that time.

Amazingly, as I swung into the back street, the little brown mother dog ran towards my vehicle, barking a welcome. She calmly allowed me to examine her mouth. The hook, had it actually been there, was gone, leaving no apparent wound or hole.

A woman on a nearby verandah told me that the dog had given birth a few weeks ago to seven puppies. She led me to an old washroom at the back of the property, where the adorable pups were huddled amidst dirt and various objects. The woman said she had been cooking rice for the mother dog. While not an ideal diet, thankfully it had