Mumu on the move
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A much-rescued dog is rescued yet again
WHAT HAPPENS to a dog who’s rescued? You’d expect that once rescued, the dog would never need rescuing again, wouldn’t you?
So today, meet Mumu, who was rescued, loved, lost, rescued again, loved – and then, although not lost, rescued again.
Talk about one lucky doggie!
She didn’t start out so lucky. About 10 years ago, a friend of mine, Dr K, looked outside her gate and saw a puppy who was dirty, starving and full of ticks and fleas.
K is a vet, and to her experienced eye, the dog just needed food, vitamins, a good bath, and some love.
Of course, K was right. In a few days, the dog had changed completely, not only because of food and the removal of all those ticks and fleas.
Love had something to do with it too. Ok, so she wasn’t purebred, but she turned out to be a charming, friendly dog with a big smile. She also developed her own unique way of greeting people, rubbing her body against people’s legs, then shoving her nose into their hands.
For 10 years, she lived happily with K – and then, last April during the Songkran holiday, she disappeared.
No one knew where she had gone, or even how she had escaped.
For days, K drove up and down the sois looking for her, but Mumu had simply disappeared. The household gradually accepted that Mumu was gone forever.
One day, while K was working at the clinic, an American woman phoned. She had just arrived in Bangkok, she explained, and the day before, she had found an injured dog on the road. Could she bring it to the clinic?
“Of course,” K said, but the woman and the dog never arrived.
It happens. At clinics, people phone in, say they’re coming, but never do. K simply hoped that the woman had found another clinic and that the dog was all right.
Last week, however, the woman phoned again, explaining to another vet that she and the dog had indeed ended up at another clinic, where the dog’s injured ribs had been treated. Now, the woman still wanted to take the dog to the first clinic she had phoned, for vaccinations, bathing and a general checkover.
This time, the woman and dog came to the clinic. The woman, after deciding to let her dog stay at the clinic for a few days, left for home. K wasn’t at the clinic at that time, but Jeep, an assistant at the clinic who has also helped K with the dogs in her house, came downstairs to have a look at the new dog.
The newcomer was untidy and very, very depressed, but Jeep knew her anyway. “Mumu!” she screamed. “Mumu, it’s you!”
She immediately phoned K. “Mumu is here!”, but K didn’t believe her, not even the next day, when K came into the clinic and saw the dirty, depressed dog.
Then Mumu greeted her, rubbing her body against K’s legs, then shoving her nose into K’s hand.
Now, K was put in a difficult position. How could she call a client and explain that Mumu actually belonged to her?
Instead, she decided to phone the client to tell her about Mumu but not tell her that she’s a vet at the clinic. Then, if the client truly loved the dog, she could keep her, but if she didn’t, or if she couldn’t keep her, then K would take her back.
The client indeed loved the many-times-rescued dog, but as a foreigner, her time in Thailand may be limited. Whatever happens, though, Mumu will always have a home – and maybe, she won’t need to be rescued anymore.
