Thread: Soooooooo faithfull ... obviously not Thai

I wrote this at the time he passed, a few years ago now ...

---

I lost a friend recently - Moo - mate, you are missed.



I've never owned a Dog ... a few cats, but never a dog.
Coming to the Farm in Thailand, the place is literally over run with them.
Each Farm has their own pack.
One dog stood above them ... his name was Moo ... Actually, it was Moo Moo ... tone down, so not as to be confused with the Thai word for Pig.
Come sundown, I used to take a fancy to walking the Farm ... took me maybe 20 - 30 mins round all the ponds.

I'd emerge from the Farm house. More often then not, he'd be finding shelter from the Sun in the salsa by the pond.
He'd see me and, instantly his tail would 'wag' ... just gentle like ... but recognition nonetheless.
In true Thai/Isaan style ... it took just a simple motion of the chin ... come-on old son ... it's time now.

A quick up, a stretch, maybe a yawn and we'd be away ...
Sometimes, the other Farm Dog, Gee (or Lucky) would tag along.

So ... the boys would be off.

Always making sure, as guard dogs, our path, our journey was safe.
There were dangerous bits.
All the Farmers have dog packs. One we have to walk near as his pond borders on our usual path.



Moo would just amble along as if he didn't care.
He fought his battles years ago and despite the other dogs snarling ... no-one would come near us when Moo led the walk.
Though his many battle scars, he'd earnt the title 'Leader of the Pack' a long time ago.
There is an irony in that ... Moo, in his latter years had lost most of his teeth ... certainly the canines ... at best ... he could 'gum them to submission'.

It mattered naught. He was the Boss, others walked behind him.

Despite his strength ... he had a major Achilles heel ... TICKS.
They would use him as a host, suck him dry, breed away and little that could be done.
We tried many things.
Physical removal was common ...







They would, of course, come back in numbers with in a few days ... but it was the best we could do for him ... and he seemed strong and resilient enough.

Chemical treatments were not considered because the dogs would often swim or bath in the ponds and the Fish/Shrimp/Prawns were very sensitive to this
style of chemical ... so we couldn't use them.
Plus ... he hated showers ... any application of a preventative cure would be washed off, in the Pond, with minutes seconds.

When the ticks were in plague proportions ... it would slow him down a bit ... but he always bounced back.
Indeed, this is how we first bonded. I'd come out to the Salsa by the Pond, tweezers in hand ... he'd be there.
Basically I groomed him. Picked off the obvious ticks, then ran my finger through his coat and 'felt' for the other ticks.

No-one else did this ... maybe the Thais thought this a little strange.

It's funny now, in hindsight. He got so used to me taking the ticks off, he used to go to sleep while I did this.
Even the ignominy to actually 'snore' one time he was that deep asleep.

When the ticks got really bad ... he developed a skin condition and lost a lot of his hair ... but, with a little treatment ... and maybe
I snuck him a little extra food ... his coat returned ...



I didn't know it ATT ... but he's 14 in this photo!


Life at the Farm was good. Cyclic ... but good.

Like most things ... I was hoping that the good things, the good times never end ... but we all know they do.
For Moo ... they did.
We were out at the Pond and I noticed more then the usual number of ticks ... maybe that day I spent an hour
and maybe harvested 100+

Ditto the next day.
Moo got slower.
And slower.
Then stopped eating.
And drinking.
...

I knew ... we all knew.
The sun was setting soon.
At that stage I said goodbye to him ... while he was still alive.
It meant nothing to him of course ... meant the world to me ... thanked him for being the Family's protector.

Actually I thought he was 14 ... but I was reminded that he came to us when one of the Farm kids was born ... and she's 16 now.

We tried ... ... I tried. Vets weren't an option ... don't ask.
I tried water, I tried syringes and water ... I tried the vitamins we gave to the boys when they were pre-mature to give Moo some strength.
It almost broke a man's heart to walk out, see him use all his failing energy to wag his tail as best he could ... but he tried.

Twice he got up ... swaggered like a drunken sailor and fell into the pond.
When he did this ... I stayed with him maybe 10 or 20 mins each time, washing the cool water over him.

I was the only guy with enough strength to haul him out of the pond (I was almost knee deep in the mud) ... and place him back in the
shade and comfort him the best we could. He's not a small dog.

The next day (a few months ago now), we had a decent Storm at the Farm.
He was resting under the awning ... but he got his face in the rain.

Young Fill, bless her 8 yo heart, went out with a torch and an umbrella to check on him.

She placed a small chair and some cover over his head to report that he was 'sleeping'.
That worried me because it was a decent storm, he hated thunder and surely he'd not sleep though this.
Sure, he passed that night. Fill was the last to see him ... she did what she could.
We all did what we could.

The next morning we buried him.
The Farm Father and I dug the hole.
Extra deep mind you ... he cautioned about the Gold and Silver Dragon 'Here' that might try his luck.

There is a special site for him ... near the Banana Trees. The Farm Father placed a few flowering weeds on top.
I hope, when I go back ... I'll remember just where they are are planted.
Yes ... Moo was a dog ... but he was special to us.
Special to the Family.
Moo ... I miss you mate.