By Lynley Capon
Editor's Note: The writer, who comes from New Zealand, but lives and teaches in Thailand, enjoys making friends with nearly every dog she meets. On her latest birthday, she received “the best surprise ever” from a special canine pal.
NORTHERN THAILAND -- One thing that troubles me a lot when living in Thailand is the neglect of dogs. Every day I see poor waifs picking over scraps for food, their frames so skinny I can count their vertebrae. So I take great pleasure in being able to tell an entirely different story, that of Salai who barked back when cancer tried to bite her to death.
When I asked Salai's “owners” how old she is, they didn't know, but a local lady tells me she has seen the dog around for about five years. Strategically, Salai took up residence, as strays do, outside a little café, this one called Liaw Dear Cup, across a small lake near our house.
My husband and I enjoy regular evening walks. Soon we found a pleasant route around the lake and through the fields of a university.
On one walk, we met Salai. Initially she acted like an alert guard dog and gave us a good scolding.
As an incorrigible dog-lover, I took an immediate interest. Who could miss noticing that the dog had only three legs, her left back one having been amputated at the hip? We learned she had been hit by a car a year earlier and that the café owners had seen to her care. That alone amazed me because often the local dogs are left as cripples with damaged limbs dangling.
Before long, Salai decided to befriend us. From then on, every encounter overflowed with excitement and pleasure. She readily rolled over for tummy rubs. If I tried to move on too soon for her liking, she would run ahead a little and lie in my way, tapping me with a paw, asking for more rubs.
A visit with Salai normally lasted for about five minutes. Each time that I “massaged” her I noticed a very-raw spot just below her tail that sometimes bled as she wagged her tail across it.
As weeks passed, I noticed the arrival of an unpleasant growth that looked more and more as if her insides spilled out. Fearing it was cancerous, I spoke to a waiter at the café, who confirmed my suspicions.
Although Salai always had enough to eat, I felt pessimistic that she'd receive care for cancer. A few days later, I was surprised to see that the growth had been cut away and her “wound” looked much better. But it just burst out more vigorously within days. For about a week, Salai cried a lot whenever she saw me. I feared her life was coming to an end.
One dreadful evening, we saw no sign of Salai. I asked about her and was told she'd gone to an animal hospital for treatment. Knowing the usual local attitudes toward dogs, I had my doubts.
Weeks passed, and Salai remained gone. After a month, I asked at the café if Salai had died and received the same response – she was at an animal hospital. But Thai people often like to tell you what they think you want to hear, so I resigned myself to never seeing Salai again.
On the evening of my birthday, we walked by the café for the first time in days. To my absolute amazement, Salai appeared, alive and eager to rekindle old friendships.
Yes, I felt dumbstruck, but only for a few seconds. Salai and I ran to meet and get reacquainted. Never in my life had I received a better birthday surprise.
The café owner came out and told us that Salai had received chemotherapy for two months. In the process, she lost her fur, but it grew back – and there she was, completely well with no signs of problems where the cancer had festered. Her hospital stay had cost the café owner only 5,000 baht (about US$165).
Such care given to Salai restores my faith in the kindness of some people. Interestingly, I noticed that a few other stray dogs with prominent ribs had gathered in the vicinity. I didn't recognize them, but Salai's return must have encouraged them to come to a spot where kindness to neglected dogs really happens. I hope they, too, can enjoy the café's food scraps -- and maybe more.
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