Some months ago me and my husband were at our modest bungalow in Phuket waiting on brother Tee to come back with the motorbike so we could go to the Nai Yang beach market to buy food for dinner. When he finally pulled up it was clear that he was in a very agitated mood.
We had four puppies left to adopt out by the point: Spice, Shady, Stripe and Snowflake. Daisy’s miracle brood of 11 had thinned down through an aggressive word of mouth campaign but by that point any Thai friends or neighbors who knew anyone remotely interested in adopting puppies had had their fill. My efforts online to post about the puppies had hit a brick wall. On AseanNow my post had been allowed but I was broadly condemned for not spaying my dog and the post went nowhere.
Facebook marketplace did not allow posts any more regarding any live animal for sale or adoption in Phuket. My posts were immediately flagged and banned. This had been done ostensibly to stop the dog meat trade in Thailand. It sounds reasonable until closer scrutiny is paid to the ban.
As Tee pulled up on the motorbike the puppies began running towards it. I’d had to brake many times to keep from hitting the little guys. Brother Tee did not brake. If anything he seemed to speed up. He hit one of the puppies: Stripe, who howled in agony and ran off with an unknown injury.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I yelled as I went to look for the puppy. Brother Tee immediately launched into a curse filled tirade about when we were going to get rid of the fucking dogs . They were always getting in his room and we were lucky he hadn’t killed the damned things already. Beyond our three adult dogs Daisy, Shadow and Cooper we had been stuck on four puppies left for a month. They were already 12 weeks old and with Tee sometimes kicking them and his erraatic behavior they were becoming wary of strangers. This was no good.
I found Stripe hiding nearby the well and trying to limp away from me pathetically as I approached the poor puppy. He was bleeding and I thought he had a broken leg, but the injury was not immediately life threatening. I’d had enough.
“Ka!” I yelled to my husband. “Find me a rope. I want to take one of the puppies to the beach.” We tried to catch Snowflake but she was wary with all of the tumult. I’d never taken the puppies anywhere but I had been considering taking them to Wat Muang Mai during a large funeral to see if anyone was interested in adopting one.
Spice approached me as I tied a harness around her. She was my baby and the absolute runt of the litter. When some of the smaller puppies had developed mange she had gotten it the worst. Her tail had been a hairless stump for a time, though she was on the mend from the powder I’d bought. Her eyes looked up at me adoringly as we headed off with the puppy. I trust you, Mom, they seemed to say.
Nobody was interested in adopting a puppy at Nashon’s shop before the beach. It had occured to me that we might not find anybody who wanted a puppy, in which case I would have simply brought Spice back home. We walked along the foot path which seperated Nai Yang from Maikhao beach after the airport. The beach was crowded but I was looking for a space alone and away from the road. We saw a farang couple who were talking among themselves and enjoying some wine. As we passed them I was able to identify them as Russian based on their language. Up further ahead was a Thai Muslim family. It was as good of a spot to stop as any. We sat on the cement stoop under the trees and I untied Spice from her harness.
“Look at her!” I exclaimed to my husband. Spice wasted no time at all in adjusting to her new circumstance. Her nose was set on finding food. She found a bag of discarded chicken bones and sticky rice nearby the pathway. “That poor girl being the runt she never got enough food at home!” I was pouring bags of dog food into a large tray for the puppies, but Spice being the smallest was always chased off by the bigger ones. “It’s like she doesn’t even care where she is as long as there’s food!”
“I know.” Ka answered back.
I sighed. “I don’t know what to do about the dogs. Everybody says take them to Soi Dog, but I am not sure if any good. They have many many many dogs right now.” I’d read on their facebook page that they were caring for 1900 dogs at that point. I knew from my experience with puppies and time volunteering for Koh Samui’s dog rescue what types of dogs were most adoptable and least. Male light haired or spotted puppies were tops especially among Thais who might not want puppies in the future but also might delay neutering or spaying dogs. The black and brown puppies, especially female, were the lowest priority.
Among dogs at Thailand animal charities puppies came first, followed, oddly enough, by disabled dogs. Everybody wants to be the hero and adopting a two or three legged mutt with complex medical needs from a developing country was worth some sort of social media clout. The least adopted dogs were healthy mid sized mixed breed adults with brown or black fur. They were the Thai street (Soi) dogs and were widely considered a dime a dozen.
“I’m worried your brother kill the dogs if I keep them there. He certainly won’t feed them.” Spice came back to our side with her tail wagging. After a few moments her nose went up in the air for more food. She found a discarded stryrofoam wrapper nearby the Muslim family. Their three children were alarmed by her as she came too close and, with her tail under her legs, she scuttled back to us. Muslims in Thailand don’t keep dogs.
I sighed. “I don’t know what to do about any of them.”
“Excuse me?” The Russian man approached us then. “Your dog, what is her name?” He questioned. He spoke good English, which was exceptionally rare for the Russians. In my experience in Phuket immigration I’d say Russian passports accounted for about 60% of the total farang population on the island. They stuck to themselves and I knew that as a rule of thumb their English, or Thai language for that matter, was piss poor. When I had sat down at this spot I had congenially ignored this farang couple and had assumed that my conversaton with Ka would not be either overheard or understood.
I now had to make some quick calculations in my head. The attractive farang couple drinking expensive wine in the locals area of Nai Yang beach during tourist low season were likely residents of Phuket. Because one understands a language before they speak it I could also assume that the man at least had overheard some parts of my conversation. Because he spoke English well the socioeconmic status of the couple was likely very high.
“Spice.” I told him smiling. He called for the puppy, who put her tail between her legs nervously. His girlfriend or wife, an attractive dark haired woman in her late 20’s, had better luck. She was able to coax the puppy in with some Cheetos.
“Cheers.” The Russian man said, and offered us some glasses for our drinks. It was nearing sunset. An older Thai gentleman who was friends with Ka was walking along the beach path. Ka and him began talking in Thai language and then he offered for us to see his place in Maikhao. We walked along the beach under the airport. Spice did not follow us. We lost the way and returned to our spot perhaps 20 minutes later. The Russian couple and Spice the puppy were all gone. We came back to the same area on the beach the next day but never saw Spice again.
It is possible that the Russian couple simply went home and that Spice wandered off to a fate unknown. It’s also possible that they had understood enough of the dog in distress call that I was communicating that they took the puppy to Soi Dog where, after being sterilized, microchipped and injected with substances, she probably would have been adopted. But I don’t think that’s what happened to her. Everybody wants to be the hero, you see.
Somewhere out there, perhaps communicated on a Telegram channel almost certainly in Russian language, I think Spice is getting superstar treatment. I think she lives in a big nice house in Phuket where she never gets kicked around and she doesn’t have to fight with six other dogs for food. I’d like to believe that the puppy will never go hungry again.
Put yourself in that man and woman’s shoes. If you had overheard my conversation and had been in a position to help that puppy, would you have? Most of the pets I’ve adopted over the years were similar stories of a cat or dog simply landing in my lap at the right time and under the right circumstances. Spice was my baby of the bunch so I perhaps find it fitting if, while talking in my clearly midwestern United States of American English, a Russian couple offered a solution.
Stripe did get some medical treatment for his wounded leg at Soi Dog where Daisy and Shadow were also spayed. The bounding and ever playful tan puppy was in good spirits afterwards and we were informed that a farang volunteer at the shelter was looking to adopt him. “Yes!” I said enthusiastically. Snowflake was adopted by a Thai friend and Shady went to a Thai woman in the neighborhood. That puppy wandered back to our house one week later. The woman informed us that her older dogs were picking on Shady at feeding time and we still have her, so there’s now three black girl dogs and Cooper. My dog population experiment is over, with mixed results: beyond Daisy’s miraculous 11 puppies in 2023, the dogs had a litter of pups about once per year and the population in the neighborhood was fairly steady.
I do not think that funneling all of the dogs into the single animal charity of Soi Dog is a good idea. I’m sure if you volunteer there you see a huge pet overpopulation problem. But is there really? Or do they simply make it appear that way?
Sometimes it’s up to each one of us to save the day when and where we can. Always think of the ostensible and real reasons for a policy being put in place. A picture of Spice:
My song of the day:
Spice is ADORABLE, Amy. Your husband is handsome. I think this is the first picture I’ve seen of him!
Modern humans are exceptionally good at creating imbalances in nature, with the systems we impose upon nature. Orphanages, animal shelters, huge poulty and pig operations, schools, factory farms, the list is long. I respect your efforts to avoid engaging with these large systems, their motives are often questionable.