Dog Days: Vietnam


Hugh Paxton Blog’s loathsome beagle, Buggly, has just added yet another tick in his “naughty” Santa list. Santa won’t even have to check his list twice. Unless he has difficulty believing the length of offences recorded in just this year alone.

Buggly’s latest crime?

A Christmas fruitcake.

Buggly is allergic to raisins and sultanas. Unfortunately consumption of both is non-lethal. It merely provokes flatulence and chundering. More mess. More smells.

I don’t even think he enjoys cakes.

I’m not sure he actually tastes anything. Fish heads, rotting road kill squirrels, prime aged beef fillet, cat shit, even expensive dog food – he just gulps the lot down in nanoseconds. Then looks for more. If he could eat himself he probably would. But he can’t, or hasn’t thought of it yet.

He currently weighs in at 10 kilos.

A mongrel fetches 500 baht a kilo on the hoof (or paw) in Vietnam.

Eating dogs in most of Thailand is considered vulgar and proof of peasant origins but the hill tribes in the north indulge. Cambodians will over indulge but the Khmer Rouge diet of nothing to eat makes them understandably anxious to eat anything available before an 11 year old girl in grim but functional PeeJays rises from the genocidal communist grave and sticks an AK up in their ear or up their rectum.

Koreans and Filipinos (northern Luzon mostly) find dog meat warming and healthy, the Chinese eat them of course but that lot eat anything with four legs apart from their beds, chairs and dinner table.

North Koreans ostentatiously eat lots of dogs to a) offend Yankee bastards b) because it’s that or eat communist grass and leaflets telling them to sing songs in praise of their God King. In any event they’ve run out of dogs, there are grass shortages, and the supreme leader looks as if he’s eaten a dog too far.

Some of Saddam’s ill-fated Republican Guard ate dogs but, before dinner, had to kill the dogs with their teeth on national TV to show their valour.

Personally I find war a bad thing. It spurs human creativity. RADAR, rockets, medication, thins the ever-expanding human population, but it also hurts people in terrible ways that deform and cripple for life. Being moral and indignant and getting thrilled by the Arab spring is like being a certified moron. That Arab mob requires tyranny and oppression. Not from us liberal nations. Their own leaders. Their own system. Assad is not a homicidal monster. He strikes me as a decent man living in indecent times.

The Americans used bulldozers to deflect bullets and bury the dog-eating R. Guards in their trenches. If they hadn’t eaten their dogs perhaps they’d have been on the beaches and would have barked an alert. We’ll never know. “Lassie? The Americans are coming! Where’s Lassie? Good dog! Where’s Lassie?”

Back to Asian dogs! I visited Saigon. It’s officially called Ho Chi Minh City but everybody calls it Saigon. The Hotel Continental PR manager took me on a tour of the city back streets. “Forget your German sausage! Throw your German sausage away,” he yelled as we almost collided with 500 incoming scooters. “Dog sausage is best!”

Vietnam is certainly the place to go if you aren’t Brigitte Bardot. And any more bad behavior from Buggly? That’s where Buggly will go.

I mentioned 500 baht a kilo. But that is for a mongrel. Buggly is a pedigree beagle. His sire won a pure bred beauty competition and Buggly has the paperwork to prove it (unless he’s eaten it, I must check!). That makes a kilo of Buggly worth over 1,000 baht. If I feed him half a kay of lead fishing weights prior to weighing and sale that’s going to make him even more valuable.

Buggly is currently doing what he always does. After urinating on a supporting pillar by my washing machine and crapping by my washing line he has resumed position by the front door staring in. Big moist eyes, cute droopy ears, nose up and hopeful, tail wagging as if he gives a shit whether I live or die, loving, so underfed, so alone in a cruel world that has condemned him to this dreadful lack of food and waiting. Ever waiting.

For food.

Regular readers of this blog will recall that a 6 meter Burmese python ate my cat a few weeks ago. I posted photos. I originally measured it as 4 meters. But it was late and I didn’t want to get into fisherman’s tales about length and size. You can see the lump in its belly that was Treats.

Getting Buggly to Vietnam probably isn’t cost effective. Chang suggested that the dog needs a bit more freedom at night. Buggly might benefit from the cool moonlit breeze. The python has come back. Chang saw it in my neighbor, Bruno’s garden. In Chang’s opinion a ten kilo beagle won’t pose a problem. The python can dislocate its jaw. I’ve recently dislocated my shoulder and broken an arm. Nothing helpful about that. But a python this size can swallow a young feral pig. They don’t eat people. Not even small babies. To my knowledge this hasn’t happened.

When Treats was eaten I offended my immediate family by rousting them out of bed and saying “Thank God I didn’t buy cat food this morning! Look at what we’ve got!”

My humanity was in question.

Two days later, my beloved daughter Annabel asked “If you could have killed the python and saved Treats what would you do?”

“I’d let the python eat. Why not? Cats everywhere. Who gives a damn. They’re an invasive species and lower the heart rate of lonely old women and prolong their lives. They also kill all the birds and since Treats was eaten my garden has moved two meters lower. Everything was hiding in the tree tops. Now we’ve got everything at ground level.”


“Treats loved you. She was your cat. She always wanted to be with you. You loved her. You rescued her..(etc)”

“A good life, a useful death. As you say so frequently, “Get over it!”


“I love him dearly, darling. Trust me.”


From: chang19814 []
Sent: Tuesday, December 08, 2015 8:19 AM
To: Hugh Paxton

Sent from my Samsung device

%d bloggers like this: