Friends arrive to live in Thailand, accompanied by large and very fluffy dog. It is soon clear that things are not going well. Dog can’t stand the heat, goes mental every time it is left alone, and friends are forced to live in a shitty little house which is the only place they can find that allows pets; rather than the very pleasant condo that they own, that doesn’t.
It is clear that a new owner must be found. One with a suitable home for a bouncy beast. One who is prepared to run aircon to keep it cool while it acclimatises (if it ever will). One who is prepared to buy the expensive food for a delicate stomach. Etc. Etc. Tall order.
A potential owner is found who turns out to be potentially mad. Friends then feel they are running out of options and close to mental breakdown.
So it is no surprise when she who must be obeyed gets a call yesterday morning from a friend of the friends to say they are going to take the dog to the vets to be put down. As a Buddhist, she who must be obeyed believes this to be wrong. As not a Buddhist I think it is sad, but I am more concerned for the mental health of my friends than that of the dog. She pleads with me to call them and ask them to wait for a while, allowing more time for another owner to be found. I refuse on the grounds that I doubt another owner can be found and I do not want to put my friends through further stress. I don’t get a kiss when she goes to work.
One hour later she is on the phone. Somehow she has persuaded her boss to take the dog. He has more money than god, a huge house, a maid that looks after his current dog for him, leaving him only the petting and companionship jobs, and aircon blasting everywhere. He is an ideal candidate.
Knowing that the dog is on the way to the vets, and doom; I call my friends. You can picture the scene. The dog is restrained on the table, a resigned look on its face. The vet is prepping the syringe and about to plunge it into wherever it is vets plunge needles into dogs, let’s assume the bum. The phone rings. The weeping friends sob “hello” and then their expression changes; even as the needle heads towards the bum of the doomed dog. “Stop!!” they shout and appropriate music plays. The dog whimpers in gratitude. Fade to credits.
Actually it was nothing like that, they were still waiting for the baht bus. So, instead of the vets they took the dog to the house of the man with more money than god, where it is apparently doing very well.
As is her character, she who must be obeyed did not beat me up for my failure in helping to save the dog; I even got a kiss when she arrived home. I told her I was proud of her, which I was. She told me she was just happy the dog did not have to die. I told her I was just happy she was my wife. Fade to credits.
Comments 🔗
2009-05-15| postman pat saysCreep!
2009-05-18| todd saysgood to know the dog is alive and well, but what kind of idiots bring a dog to thailand without planning or decent level of thought.
surely the dog would fair better in their home country - should have found it a nice home before they left.
2009-05-18| Spike saysHindsight is a wonderful thing. They loved the dog and somehow thought they could work something out once they got it here. Was not to be.