New Door

Arthur's dog door to the world finally fell apart and had to be replaced over the weekend. The rubbery flap had ripped right off its hinges. (Plus, it was uncleanably grimy.) I wanted to install a hi-larious porthole, but was voted down. He had to be able to get outside, after all.


The new, slightly wider casing required my sister to saw a bigger hole in the door, but aside from the NOISE! and the SAWDUST!, Arthur was unperturbed by all the activity. He seemed interested, actually.


And now with an extra inch-and-a-half, his big butt is going to sail through that opening like a dolphin through a hoop.

hahahahahahahaha

As It Should Be

For many months, Arthur's favorite napping spot under one of the side windows was occupied by a plastic drum kit. No longer! The kit was moved, the dog is now back in position.

Disaster averted.

Yesterday's Arthur

I'm not sure when this photo of Arthur and my mom was taken, but I'm guessing it was 2001, shortly after he'd been adopted. It looks like she grabbed him as he was trying to flee.

If They Flap Hard Enough, Maybe They'll Fly Away

There's something about people suspended in midair that makes me laugh; dogs suspended mid-jump is even better. It's all about the ears.

(Thanks, Reed!)

Most Hated Holiday

The view from my lap on Saturday afternoon.

(Although he doesn't climb the walls like he did as a puppy, Arthur still hates the Fourth of July.)

Southeast Asian Special, Part IV - The Last One, I Swear

Of course, I had my favorites. How could I not have favorites? Like the black-and-white spaniel-y boy who belonged to one of the men running a Si Phan Don ferry in the south, or Whisky the black lab in Tat Lo whose best friend was a rescued river otter. (Yes, an otter.) All the dogs I met were nice, but these were extra special.

ferry dogs

I met this sweet guy in a riverside restaurant on Don Det island. He was very sad and wouldn't eat the tiny barbequed frog I gave him. Maybe he was hoping for some sticky rice.

The leggiest puppy in all of Southeast Asia.

More restaurant dogs. The one on the left sat under my chair while I ate.

And then there was Whisky, the mascot of Tadlo Lodge in the Salavan Province, and the only labrador I saw in all of Laos. A sweet, sweet dog with an unconventional playmate:

(sorry this video is so crappy)

On the Menu

It must be said: People in rural Laos have been known to eat dog. It's not usually on the menu, but apparently not out of the question. In the bigger cities, however, it seemed that more dogs were kept as pets than as protectors (or meals), and on a trip to a supermarket in the southern town of Pakse, I found canned dog food on the shelves, which I took as a good sign. If you love your dog, you buy him fancy dog food, right?

The irony is, the city pooches would be better off eating like their village counterparts – scraps of fresh, unprocessed meat, and organic fruits and vegetables. Top Dog (the brand on the shelves) might look fancy, but is probably pretty crappy.

Southeast Asian Special, Part III - Dogs in the Cities

At the Laos/China border

When I refer to "cities" in Laos, I mean large-ish places with paved roads, reasonably reliable electricity, consumerism and AC. You'll find both the high and low ends of that definition, the low being a place like Muang Sing that once hosted the largest opium market in Southeast Asia, but is now basically one street of shops; and UNESCO World Heritage site Luang Prabang on the high end with its riverside restaurants, resort hotels and colonial French architecture.

In the larger towns I also saw many more breeds of dog – more commerce brings more variety, I suppose – and some were even on leads. The majority, however, were roaming free. It's the Lao way.

in Luang Prabang

Luang Prabang

The only dog in all of Laos that I saw chained to a tree. I think he was naughty.

Muang Sing

Siem Reap, Cambodia

monks' dog at Wat Xieng Muan, Luang Prabang

Udom Xai