While I’m very much the traditional, stiff-arsed Brit when it comes to interactions with other people, I have practically limitless affection for animals, and am never afraid to put it on display. Despite this, I’ve resisted the temptation to get a dog for over a decade, and not entirely without reason. For starters, my wife isn’t overly fond of pets, or more specifically – cleaning up after them. I’ve also spent the majority of my time in Korea living in apartments, and it would feel cruel depriving a dog of his own outside space. But mostly, it’s because of the inevitable heartbreak.
I still remember the day I got my first dog, Dempsey, back in my early twenties. He must have been only a few weeks old, and I could hold him in the palm of my hand. To say that I miss him is an understatement. He was very old when I first came to Korea in 2011, and when I went back the following Christmas he was truly on his last legs. I recall our last meeting: half-blind and deaf as a post, he failed to recognise me at first. But then after repeatedly calling him, he wagged his tail furiously and crawled his way over. It was like the homecoming of Odysseus (if you can imagine a spectacularly pansified production), and I’m almost crying thinking about it.
Still, I can’t deny my children the pleasure of a dog just because I’m a sissy, and now we live in a house there’s no excuse. I took the girls out shopping over the weekend (again, something I rarely indulge in), and decided to bite the bullet. The first question was what sort of dog to get – this had proved a marital stumbling block in the past, on the rare moments it had come up for discussion. Korean women are martyrs to the kind of handbag dogs that I can’t stand – the small, yapper type things that function more as a clothing accessory than a loving member of the family.
Naturally I wanted something more substantial, but in Korea design favours the tiny to the extent that a border collie is considered a very large dog! Still, I knew that compromise would be the order of the day, so I went along to the local pet shop with an open mind. No dogs it turned out, but I was undeterred – being the sort of person who makes decisions first and asks questions later. In the end, we decided to do the moral thing and visit the rescue centre. Although this works out easier on the wallet, it comes with its own set of issues – particularly in Asia. You can wax lyrical about Korea and Koreans till the cows come home, but they’re not famous for their kindness to animals. Dogs are regularly abandoned in Korea, and according to the Korean Animal Welfare Association, only about one in ten pets will live with their family until they die.
Of the 100 or so dogs at the place, I could have taken every single one of them home. The instant love they give is overwhelming. But I was there principally for my girls, so I’d have to attempt to be rational. There were some lovely white Jindo pups which would have been my first choice – they were full of beans, and the breed is loyal, intelligent, and good with children. My wife vetoed them on sight however, since “they’re clearly too big”.
Instead, her eye was drawn to a bedraggled little thing cowering in the corner of his cage. Emily, my eldest was given the choice and agreed with her mother, so that was that. ‘Dempsey’ (Mach II) is a two-year-old cross between a Welsh Corgi and a Japanese Shiba Inu. The genetic blend leaves him looking something like a fox, and even a little like his former namesake, as chance would have it.
In 45 years, I’ve never met a dog so obviously terrified. He wouldn’t look me in the eye, run, walk, or even make a sound, and was constantly shaking. After an initial consultation, we drove off to the pet suppliers to buy some much needed food and bedding. We then returned to take him home. Upon arrival at the house, Dempsey cowered behind the bath for the first hour, and couldn’t be coaxed out for love nor marrowbone. I confess, I was worried.
So far, we’ve had him for four days and it’s certainly been an experience. He’s been more work than both of my kids put together, which is saying something, but already I can see a marked improvement. He is now eating well, walking outside with some degree of confidence, and no longer flinches when you stroke him. I know how ridiculous it may sound, but he’s already become part of the family.
I have no idea what Dempsey has been through and of course he’s unlikely to tell me, but I know one thing – he’s going to be markedly better off from here on in. On a positive note, The New Conservative finally got itself a mascot.
Frank Haviland is the Editor of The New Conservative, and the author of Banalysis: The Lie Destroying the West.
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