Mack Devoto, 135 YinD
While the Peace Corps is, of course, the epitome of an unpredictable job, there is one specific role that I never expected to take on: that of a dog owner. While I have always wanted my own dog, I never expected that journey to begin in Thailand. When an animal finds their way to you and chooses you… What choice do you have but to accept your serendipitous fate?
Beatrice first came to me with her sister, Ramona, on a Tuesday morning at 7 a.m. when my host mom had found the two of them wandering around the community alone. Now, my host mom is genuinely one of the kindest women I have ever met. The reason she dropped the two of them off at my house was that she knew how much I cared about animals, especially dogs. About a month or two prior, the temple dog I had been taking care of on occasion had gotten pregnant and sadly passed away trying to give birth at the temple. I had spent my entire time at my site with Jude, as I had named her, and losing her left an empty hole in my home. While she was hardly ‘my dog’, we had an unspeakable bond. When I rode my bike home from school, Jude would often be there to greet me, waiting outside my house, tail wagging. We would then enjoy our afternoons together; she would relax and enjoy a snack I gave her, while I continued with my afternoon routine.
Jude’s passing hit me like a ton of bricks. I had just returned from an English camp in another province, excited to see her, only to be greeted by the news that she had passed while I was away. This was the first time I ever cried in front of a member of my community. My first friend at site was gone, and I wasn’t there to comfort her in her last moments. My heart ached with grief and guilt. Naturally, my host mom figured the remedy for a broken heart was a new dog! This was, of course, a bit of a cultural mishap. While I was still beyond myself with sadness over Jude, my host family was cooking up ways to make me feel better.
This is where Ramona and Beatrice come into play. Mona and Bea wandered into my host family’s store one random morning, just two pups with seemingly no place to call home. One can almost imagine the light bulb that must have sprung up over my host mom’s head when she was slammed with a sudden stroke of genius: ‘The perfect remedy for a pet loss… a new pet???’. This is when I received a message: ‘Good morning Mack, there are two baby dogs that came to the store. They do not have homes. Do you want them?’ (This is more or less the summarized English translation). I, having just woken up, responded saying that I was happy to look after them until we found them a more suitable home, as I was worried about providing for not one, but TWO puppies, especially on a volunteer stipend. There was also the worrying possibility that if they stayed with me, I would– most certainly –fall in love with them and want to bring them both back to America, which felt borderline impossible. Nevertheless, I agreed to host them in my home until we could figure out what exactly to do with them.
The following week, I hosted my first-ever English-based camp at my site. I invited four volunteers to help with the camp, and we had a fantastic time! While I was busy with hosting, I stayed in the nearby district with the other volunteers at a hotel and passed off puppy responsibilities to my host family, primarily my host uncle. During the camp, I took the volunteers to see the precious pups and introduce them. Ramona (Mona): a large, black puppy with paws too big for her little body and the brown markings of a Rottweiler. She was gentle, curious, and loved when I gave her attention. Beatrice (Bea/Beezus): a smaller, brown puppy with a face filled to the brim with wrinkles and a much smaller frame than her sister. She was shy, timid, and quiet. After I began feeding them, they quickly grew accustomed to me and began to understand that I was there to take care of them.
Unfortunately, when I returned from my hosting duties, Ramona was nowhere to be found. Concerned, I went around asking if anyone had seen her. My uncle had told me he hadn’t seen her in a day or two and that she must have wandered off. Hoping she would return, I waited wistfully, asking those who passed by if they had seen the pup. Finally, a few days later, some of my students passed my house. I asked them if they had seen her, to which they responded (in Thai): ‘I’m sorry, Teacher Mack, but we heard she was hit by a car’. Shocked is an understatement. I asked for confirmation on everything: color, size, and if they had seen my uncle with her. This only seemed to confirm that it was, in fact, my sweet girl. I expressed my gratitude for the information and quickly excused myself to talk to my uncle.
When I arrived, before I even asked a question, he said “Ahh… so you know the truth”. I stood there, heart in my stomach, as he explained that he was worried to tell me about Mona escaping and running into the street while he wasn’t looking, ultimately ending in her death. He was scared to see me cry again and thought, perhaps, he could shelter me from the loss this time. I don’t hold any malice towards my host uncle for his response to the situation. I know that Thai people and I approach relationships with pets very differently, as well as public displays of emotion.
I am not embarrassed to be someone who feels. As a matter of fact, I find my capacity for emotion to be one of my strengths. Although it is in these moments of loss that I must confront the other side of the spectrum of emotion I try my best to dance around. My heart hurt for Bea. I wanted nothing more than to be able to explain to her just what had happened, instead of her living in confusion the way I had been. It was from that moment that I came to terms with the fact that I was all she had left. I was her family now, and she was mine.
Bea and I have been together ever since! She is one of the great loves of my life, a true soul pet. I love her so much, even when she eats my favorite pair of sandals or makes a mess out of the trash. She is one of my best friends.
Taking care of a dog in another country is a completely different ball game than it was at home. As someone who grew up around dogs and who was very active in helping train and take care of the family pets, I felt unprepared to take on this era of motherhood. Alas, I stepped up to take care of Beezus. To be quite frank, things were not too difficult on normal days. I would feed her food leftovers mixed with dog food (something I never would have done in the States, but dog food here was out of my budget, and this worked better). When I took her to get vaccinated, I would ask my host aunt or my Thai counterpart for help getting her to the nearest veterinarian, about a 45-minute drive away (yikes!). My Thai friends and family were so supportive of me, helping me take care of Bea, despite their insistence that I was treating her funny. They would cackle at the idea of Beezus sleeping in bed with me, or that I would let her inside my house at all. It didn’t bother me; I was aware that my ‘farang’ perspective was incomprehensible at times.
As Bea grew, it became increasingly imperative for me to get her sterilized. The absolute last thing that I wanted was for Beatrice to get pregnant (as Jude had) and put herself at risk. Puppies would bring enormous responsibility and complications to our lives.
The first time I attempted to get Bea spayed she ended up having a blood parasite. Unfortunately, the risk was too high for surgery, so I took her home and gave her the antibiotics. We promptly returned to the vet three weeks later.
The second time I attempted to get Bea spayed, they denied me because she had just gotten her period. Prior to this, I didn’t know the full extent of a dog having a period and what going into heat looked like for a female dog. I had only ever grown up around spayed female dogs, so the heat period was a foreign concept to me. A terrifying one, at that. For two whole months, I had to fight off thirsty male dogs who would stop at nothing to get to my precious Beezus. It was a nightmare.
One week in September I went to another province to help with another volunteer’s camp. I was anxious and worried about Bea, but felt at ease knowing she had another appointment the next week. When I returned home, there was a male dog inside the gate with her. Few words can accurately depict my anger. I had never hit a dog before, but I smacked that guy as he fled my yard in a fit of madness. My anxiety skyrocketed as I ran to my host family asking how long he had been around and if they had seen anything. My host family, not understanding the weight of the situation, just laughed and kept mentioning how ‘Bea had a boyfriend’.
On the other hand, I did not think it was a laughable matter. I cried thinking about how I had left her alone for just a few days, the same way I had left Jude. I was filled to the brim with anxiety and guilt. I kept an increasingly close eye on her the next week before her appointment. When we arrived at the vet, I was nearly shaking with anxiety. The vets did blood work; everything was normal! I felt a weight lift off of my shoulders. Now, all I had to be worried about was the surgery going well! My counterpart and I went to grab a coffee from a nearby cafe. There, we waited for our drinks and chit-chatted as I relayed to her how relieved I felt knowing Bea was able to get sterilized, finally.
Mid-conversation, my counterpart’s phone rang. She answered, and I only heard a few words from her: “Bea, pregnant, can’t do”. My stomach dropped. My counterpart got off the phone and calmly told me that the doctor could not do the surgery because Bea was, in fact, pregnant.
Everything changed from that moment. I crashed out. I immediately excused myself from the table, ran outside, and sobbed into my hands. My sweet, sweet girl. Everything I had worked so hard to maintain- her health and happiness and comfort- was about to be at risk. We went back to pick Bea up from the veterinarian. I was a mess; Beatrice was high; the doctors and my counterpart were attempting to congratulate me (horrific timing, as I was clearly upset); it was utter chaos. I gathered Beezus, and we returned home.
It felt like I cried for days. I was so scared at the idea of losing her just as I had lost Jude. I look at her and my heart explodes. All I want is for her to be healthy and safe. Plus, I knew absolutely nothing about dog pregnancy. After I calmed down, I started research. Let’s just say, my internet search history for the last five months is absolutely cursed. Suddenly, my life got much more complicated. I was working, attending trainings, planning events, and, now, taking care of a pregnant dog. Thankfully, my parents were able to help me find great resources on how to help Bea through pregnancy. They scanned an entire book about whelping a dog. Whelping is a term used to describe preparation for the dog and puppies during and after the birthing process. For a while, it was a waiting game. I would take her on light walks, feed her vitamins, and try to get her as much protein as possible. Finally, in early November, I had just returned from a trip with my older brother, who had come to visit with friends, and I had left Beatrice at a dog hotel/veterinarian in the city just in case she went into labor. She hadn’t, but less than 24 hours after being back at home, it was time. Almost immediately after returning home, Bea started exhibiting signs of labor: nesting, heavy panting, restlessness. I was exhausted from travel but I refused to let her go through this alone. Given the time constraints and the lack of access to basic materials, it was not ideal conditions. I tried setting up the large cage for her to give birth, but instead, she chose my bed… of course.
Forewarning: things may get a bit freaky and gross during this portion of the story.
At midnight we welcomed the first baby. Beatrice was scared and confused, as was I. The sweet boy was born on my bed, the size of my hand. Puppies are born in a thin, mucus-like sack, and each puppy is followed quickly by its placenta. The mother must first lick the puppy out of its sack and stimulate its breathing, then it is common for the mother to eat the placenta as a source of protein. Bea, shocked and overwhelmed, stared at the little boy, as I helped break open the sack; she began licking him as he cried. At this point, tears were streaming down my face. I was overwhelmed with emotions: mostly gratitude– Bea was okay, the baby was okay, I was okay. I cried as I cleaned off the precious little puppy and waited for Bea to eat the placenta (gross!) and gather herself before I handed him over to her. Instinct is so fascinating to me. She instantly began taking care of him. I found myself swelling with pride over my sweet girl, watching her take care of her first baby. We continued this about every 30-45 minutes until 4 in the morning. By 3:30 a.m., Bea had given birth to six beautiful, healthy pups. I helped her clean them up, and held them while she would give birth. Finally, she was able to rest and I laid her babies with her to nurse and sleep. After a much-needed shower, I finally fell asleep. When I woke up, I checked on her and the babies. I counted the pups,’1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6… 7? 8??!!.
While I was asleep, Bea had given birth to 2 more babies?! I was so surprised, I had to count four times to make sure I wasn’t making it up in my head! There they all were. All eight puppies and the beautiful mama. The following week was anxiety-inducing. I felt as though I was waiting for the other shoe to drop. I had my Thai friend take us to the veterinarian to make sure everything seemed okay with Beatrice and the babies. The doctor confirmed that all was well and that she was healthy, but that she needed extra calcium in order to produce enough milk for her large litter. Eight babies is unfathomable!! I got some vitamins and formula for the pups, and we returned home.
The first few days of existence are particularly precarious for dogs. Puppies can’t control their body temperature and need to be fed every hour. It is often said that the first 48 hours are crucial in puppy development, and they need a very close eye kept on them at all times to make sure that they are eating and functioning properly.
One of the puppies was especially small. I called him Tua (bean, in Thai). On the third day, I woke up and saw that little Tua had passed. I sat with Bea and the babies as I held him in my hands and cried. He was the first to be named. I gently placed him in one of my t-shirts inside a box, placed flowers around him, marigolds amongst others. Marigolds are a very spiritual flower in Thai culture. I laid him to rest and handed him over to my host aunt for her to bring to the local temple, across from my house.
Bea carefully placed him in the ground, with the local monks residing praying for him to return back to the Earth that he came from. While I know there is only so much I have control over, I take every loss personally. He had only been in my life a mere three days, but he was a great loss. I found myself believing in reincarnation simply for the sake of processing my grief. How can something so innocent and precious meet such a horrible turn of fate? The world is full of uncertainty, but may Tua rest easy, being loved unconditionally from the moment he was born to this unrelenting world, to now, after he has left it.
At the time I am writing this, the puppies are now about a month old. They have opened their eyes! They are full of curiosity and playfulness, and they are quite messy. I have officially named them all, and they are all spoken for by members of my community, including my host family and some co-workers. I know that saying goodbye in a little over a month will break my heart ever-so-slightly, but it brings me peace knowing that they have homes to go to. A piece of Beatrice and I will always be here in Thailand, in Ubon, in my community, through them.
While I wish I could bring them all back to the States with me, I recognize that is not feasible, and I feel a bit happy thinking about these little puppies I held in my hands, seconds after birth, living and growing in the community I love and cherish. Beezus will be going back with me, of course. She has been with me since the beginning of her life journey, and she will continue to be with me as we enter the next chapter of our journey, together.
Bea has changed my life in ways I never expected. I never expected to be a dog mom, let alone a dog grandma, this soon (or ever!) in life! I wouldn’t change it for anything. While I never wish to do it again, I’m beyond grateful that the puppies are here and healthy and loved; that Bea is here and healthy and loved; and that I am here and healthy and loved.
Sticky Rice 
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