Manja (Adopted!)

* * * UPDATE * * *

June 2013

Manja was adopted by a loving family right here in Illinois, USA! She said goodbye to her foster mom, Patarin, and journeyed here this week.

Manja arrived here on Wednesday, June 5, 2013. She was welcomed to the United States by Dawn, Ayize, and myself at O'Hare Airport. 

She was a sweet little doll from the start, tail wagging and cute girly smile, despite the pelting rain that began moments after her arrival.



Dawn took her to visit the vet, and then they were off to Manja's new family - who live in a picturesque and lovely home in the Chicago suburbs. 



Manja adores her new life with an amazing family - Mom, Dad, two young kids who love her to bits, and a boac lab older brother. This little girl is living the high life now!

Thank you to all who made this possible, from Patarin and Pimpakharn for pulling, transporting, vetting, and fostering Manja; to kind-hearted international supporters who are generously donating to help cover her costs; to the Cortez family, who welcomed Manja into their home and hearts with open arms.

* * * * *

My name is Manja.

I am an adorable, tender-hearted little girl, weighing in at just 22 pounds.

Although I'm not even a few years old yet, I have only ever known hardship. 

I was rescued from the dog meat trade along with many others, and we ended up at the government-run Nakhorn Phanom livestock center. After a long, tedious time here, in a very stressful and overcrowded environment, I was finally among some chosen dogs. I was so excited - I thought I was leaving the shelter behind forever.

I was right...but not in the way I hoped. 

I was simply transferred from Nakhon Phanom to the Buriram livestock facility, where I began what felt like another endless, hopeless time loop.

But it seems like all of these sad experiences may finally be behind me.

One day, my angel on earth, Patarin, saw my photo. She looked into my 
eyes and knew she would do anything to help me.



My journey to a forever happy ending began that day.

Far across the ocean, people from the International Street Dog Foundation were looking at my photo - supplied by kind-hearted angel Patarin - and saying yes, they would help me! They would save me from this hell on earth and bring me across the ocean and find me a real home, with a family to call my very own.

But I couldn't have known that.

Nor could I have known that those same people would be absolutely devastated when a freak summer storm hit our Buriram shelter in late April and tore it asunder, leaving uprooted trees everywhere in its wake - fences ripped right out of the ground - many of my fellow dogs, escaped and at risk of running back into the hands of the dog meat traders...

Many wept and worried over my fate, and the fate of all of the other poor dogs of Buriram.

But me - and my buddies Simba and Toby, also at Buriram, and also spoken for by ISDF - all had the smarts to stick around the shelter. 

We didn't yet know that we were about to be saved, but we listened to a little voice that whispered to us to have faith and stay put - and so we did.

A team from Soi Dog Bangkok, headed by ISDF's dear friend Pimpakharn, came as quickly as they could. They searched through the devastation and amazingly, found me, Simba, and Toby, hiding within the ravaged shelter compound still, and safely out of harm's way.

And now we're OUT! 

We're free of the Buriram livestock center, having been transported by truck to safety by another angel on earth, Pimpakharn and her team from Soi Dog Bangkok!

We are with Soi Dog Bangkok now - in quarantine; receiving care, treatment, and shelter from the elements; with plenty of food and water available to us; and best of all, getting lots of loving TLC from staff, volunteers, and visitors.

Soon we will go to Patarin's vet for vaccinations and a final checkup, before heading to her house for loving foster care. 

And from there, I will eventually fly all the way across an ocean and straight into the arms of a family - or so they tell me. 

I know...it sounds like a fairy tale. 

And it is!

It really, really is!!

Because of Patarin, a wonderful new life awaits me now - a future filled with 

understanding, loving, forever people, and a home to call my own.

With all of my little heart, I hope it happens...and soon.

I have waited patiently for so very long.

For more information about adopting Manja, or any of our available dogs, please contact Dawn Trimmel at (414) 426-4148. Thank you!

 I am a victim of the dog meat trade.

I grew up on the streets of Thailand, in a "survival of the fittest" climate, where I had to fend for food and avoid many dangers. 

One day, some men approached me while I slept and tossed a wire lasso over my head. As I awoke, struggling and snapping with fear, they used a long stick with crude pincers attached to the end of it to lift me and then dump me into a truck.

Lots of other terrified dogs were in the truck alongside me. We were driven into a dense jungle-like area, away from main roads and towns. Tropical trees provided cover as the same horrid men used the wire lassos and pincers on us again, this time to grab us and drop us into a pit. We fell through the air for a terrifying moment, then landed on a hard concrete floor. Some of us were injured in the fall; all of us were terrorized.

The pit cover was replaced once we were all inside it, and hardly any light penetrated from above. There was no food or water in our hot, dark, claustrophobic jail, and nowhere to escape. But we didn't fight one another or really do much of anything other than freeze with fear - we were all too traumatized.

Over the next couple of days, the pit cover opened a few times, light blinded us from above, and more dogs were dropped in amongst us until the men apparently decided that had enough of us to satisfy their greed and justify an legal smuggling run across the border.

 There was the sound of the pit cover opening again, and as we all blinked, blinded once again by the light, expecting more dogs to drop down amongst us, the long pincer stick returned instead. We were grabbed around the neck once more, and then shoved into a new form of torture - a compact "crush cage" - with many other dogs. 

The cages were set on end and we were dropped in and shoved and packed like sardines until limbs and tails emerged from between the wire bars and we were nearly suffocating from such close quarters. None of us could move more than literally one inch in any direction. 

Then our crush cages were piled high onto the flatbed of a truck, with more and more cages on top of, and around the sides of, ours. Many of us lost limbs and tails in crushing injuries as the staggering weight stacked higher and higher.

In order to conceal us - live contraband intended for smuggling cross-country and over two border crossings - a heavy, non-breathable tarp was thrown over the entire truck's cargo, cutting off even our access to fresh air - the last resource we had.

We sat on that truck for a long time. I was so dazed and disoriented that it could have been hours or it could have been days - I really can't say for sure. I guess they were waiting for an all clear signal from they boss. They drank water noisily from bottles as they laughed and joked near our truck and we watched them with desperate eyes because of course, during this time, we had been under terrible stress and had not had food or water for a dangerously-long period of time. 

I was certain that the end must be near - I was sure I would suffocate from the heat, from this extreme overcrowding, and from the long stretch of time that slowly ticked by. Indeed, many dogs around me perished.

It was evening, as dusk fell, when our truck finally rumbled to life and attempted to make a run northward for the border. The smugglers were headed for Vietnam, by way of Laos. But near the river's edge which separated Thailand from Laos, where we would have once again been thrown about like so much live garbage - this time into overcrowded smuggling boats - new sounds reached deep into our desolate quarters, inspiring fresh apprehension to those of us still alive and still conscious.

Voices - angry and commanding - fell upon our ears.  We were frightened, but not for long. Much to my surprise, we were rescued that day, and I owe my life to the caring individuals and government officials who came together to save us all from yet more suffering in an extended transport, and eventual slow torture and death, to be someone's adrenaline-infused meal (which some cultures consider good for one's health and virility). 

I am forever grateful to our saviors. A few of the Royal Police even cracked open water bottles and tried their best to proffer sips to those of us in cages with access to bars facing them. But there was too little water and too many dogs. And anyway, it would be a long while before we could even be released from our terrifying confines.

We were slowly transported another long distance, still in those horrible crush cages, still packed like sardines - it seemed to take forever. I was in so much pain and filled with claustrophobic terror - what next??

We ended up at the Nakhon Phanom - and then, much later - at the Buriram government-run shelters, two of several large livestock centers in the Thai nation. There, our cages were unloaded with the use of cranes, hoists and manpower. One by one, our cage wires were cut and we literally had to be unpacked and unfolded from the positions we had been held prisoner in for so many long and torturous days.

Next, those of us who could stand and move still were herded into a large dog kennel. To be able to move freely again, and to have access to large vats of water and a long trough with food, was nothing short of miraculous, after all I had endured.

But although my life was marginally-improved now that I'd been "saved", we all still suffered - this time from widespread disease and massive overcrowding. Food was scarce; we lived practically one on top of the other; dog fights were frequent and often vicious; and there was little to no medical attention available. Once again, I was surrounded by terrible suffering and watched as many fellow dogs died around me at a rapid rate.

A long, frightening, sad period of my life passed here. I wondered if my whole life would play out behind these bars, and I shivered with fear to imagine such a fate.

But somehow, through some magical stroke of fate, Lady Luck intervened on my behalf. Someone, somewhere, saw my photo, looked into my eyes, and knew that they could not leave me behind.

For the first time in my strife-filled life, I am seeing the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel. In my foster home in Bangkok, I am being shown kindness and affection; I am learning confidence, and polishing my manners; and I am discovering the meaning of family, and the meaning of love. It has been a glimpse into a life I never even knew existed: lives where doggies have homes and families to call their very own, lives where they will never know fear again. 

It's a life I so desperately want now…but one which will be brand-new to me and often confusing. I have so much to learn about life as a pet dog. I know I can do it - I've made it this far already! - but please, won't you gently show me the ropes, and have patience with me when I make missteps sometimes, as I surely will? In return, I will repay you a thousandfold.

I just need a fair chance at a life I could only dream of when I was that terrified dog, crammed into a crate, baking alive in the tropical heat, who had given up all hope.

Thank you for reading my story.

Love, Manja

ZeZe (Adopted!)

*** UPDATE ***

May 2013

Hooray - dear ZeZe (now Marley) has been adopted by Sheila Hutchinson in the United Kingdom, already a mum to beloved Soi Dog alumni, beautiful Miss Meg. We are over the moon for little Marley!

Here he is in Bangkok with his guardian angel, and amazing foster mommy, Soot Liang Woo.

And here he is arriving at the airport in the UK, and into his lovely new mum's arms. Hooray!

Here is Marley playing Playstation with Dad, snuggling with Mum, and having a snooze with his new best friends and siblings. 

Marley - after your long, incredible journey - you are home at last!

Thank you to all who made this possible, from Patarin and the Magic 10 Club for pulling and transporting ZeZe out of Khemmarat; to Soot for vetting, fostering, and socializing this shy, long-legged lad; to Sheila who kindly and generously opened her heart and home to this wonderful little boy!

* * * * *

My name is ZeZe.

 I've noticed that some of the Magic 10 Club folks are calling me "Pencil Legs" behind my back. This makes sense, as I have a figure any supermodel would kill for: I'm tall, skinny, and my legs are a mile long. 

I'm a petite boy, just 26 pounds, though my curly white coat makes me look fluffy and big. 

I'm desperate for love, with a sweet heart of gold buried inside me, under all the pain I've experienced. 

I dream of finding kind, patient, forever people who will see past my shy side to the puppy within, and teach me to trust again. 

The world is my oyster, or so the Magic 10 Club tells me...and I so want to believe it. I just need someone to hold my paw as I set out into this big, wide world to learn the true meaning of that phrase.

I am a victim of the dog meat trade.

I grew up on the streets of Thailand, in a "survival of the fittest" climate, where I had to fend for food and avoid many dangers. One day, some men approached me and tossed a wire lasso over my head. They threw me in a small cage with many other dogs. It was so packed that none of us could move more than an inch in any direction. Then the crate was thrown high into the flatbed of a truck, and more and more cages began to be piled upon the top of, and around the sides of, ours. In order to conceal us - the live contraband being smuggled - a huge, heavy, plastic tarp was thrown over the entire truck's cargo, cutting off even our access to fresh air - the last resource we had.

We sat on that truck for several days. Of course, during this time, we were given no food or water. I felt that the end must be near - I was sure I would suffocate from the heat, from this extreme overcrowding, and from the long stretch of time that slowly ticked by. Indeed, many dogs around me perished. 

One evening, as dusk fell, the truck rumbled to life and attempted to make a run for the Vietnam border. But near the river's edge, where we would have been once again thrown about like so much live garbage, this time into overcrowded smuggling boats, new sounds reached deep into our desolate quarters, and gave hope to those of us still alive and still conscious.

Voices - angry and commanding - fell upon our ears. Much to my surprise, I was rescued that day, and owe my life to the caring individuals and government officials who came together to save us survivors from yet more suffering and eventual torture, before an unimaginably-horrific end. I will be forever grateful to them.

We were slowly transported another long distance to the ------government-run shelter, one of three large livestock centers in the nation. There, our cages were unloaded slowly with the use of cranes and hoists and manpower. Then, one by one, our cage wires were cut and we literally had to be unpacked and unfolded from the positions we had been held prisoner in for so many long and torturous days.

Next, those of us who could stand and move still were herded into a large dog kennel. To be able to move freely again, and to have access to large vats of water and a long trough with food, was nothing short of miraculous, after all I had endured.

But although my life was marginally-improved now that I'd been "saved", we all still suffered - this time from widespread disease and massive overcrowding. Food was scarce; we lived practically one on top of the other; dog fights were frequent and often vicious; and there was little to no medical attention available. Once again, I was surrounded by terrible suffering and watched as many fellow dogs died around me at a rapid rate. 

But somehow, through some magical stroke of fate, Lady Luck intervened on my behalf. Someone, somewhere, saw my photo, looked into my eyes, and knew that they could not leave me behind.

Patarin Phadungpisuth removed me from Khemmarat and had me transported to a veterinary clinic in Bangkok. There, I saw a veterinarian for medical attention, was put into a well-padded, spacious cage of my very own, and enjoyed unrestricted access to my own personal food and water bowls. 

As if this was not enough, in a week's time, my foster mom - Pat, again! - came to the vet clinic, and instead of her customary "Hello, how are you?" and loving pats, she collected me out of my cage, and into her arms. And then we walked outside to her car, and she drove me to her home, and…oh, if you could only know how my heart sang aloud when this happened to me!

 For the first time in my strife-filled life, I saw the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel. 

In my foster home in Bangkok, I was shown kindness and affection; I learned confidence, and polished my manners; and I discovered the meaning of family, and the meaning of love. It was a glimpse into a life I never even knew existed: lives where doggies have homes and families to call their very own, lives where they will never know fear again. It's a life I so desperately want now…but one which will be brand-new to me and often confusing. 

I have so much to learn about life as a pet dog. 

I know I can do it - I've made it this far already! - but please, won't you gently show me the ropes, and have patience with me when I make missteps sometimes, as I surely will? In return, I will repay you a thousandfold. 

I just need a fair chance at a life I could only dream of when I was that terrified dog, crammed into a crate, baking alive in the tropical heat, who had given up all hope.