Ugly-scruffy-mean dog turns hero, saves the day

Flea-bitten gimpy dog of the slums and his boy master get into some tough scrapes but emerge with lessons learned

almost destroyed ugly-scruffy-mean. He was whimpering — couldn’t really move — and lying hidden in a dark corner near Almost a relative Granny’s shack, where hidden — at least in dog’s safety terms — he felt he would be safe and could heal. Cartoon gave the wounded animal some instant noodles and water. Three weeks later, dog got up and about and found Master Cartoon, and they become friends for life. The dog would not leave his side.

Or was it the other way around? AlmostRelated Granny didn’t like having any dog around, but there was no scaring him off. Her walking stick didn’t scare him. Therefore, she made a new Rule of the House: Ugly-scruffymean stays outside and is never fed from the shack’s food budget.

In the end, only Master Cartoon would live in the shack. The two girls, Miss Stamp and Miss Peanut, came to live with us at the Mercy Centre. But Cartoon, true to his word, paid his 20-bahtper-day for rent and food, and Almost-Related Granny’s swamp shack became his first home he could remember.

The swamp, the water was stagnant and polluted. I say “was” because two weeks ago, after Master Cartoon nearly drowned, the slum dwellers around the swamp/canal and the local authorities got together and cleaned trash from the swamp. In the first 4 days, they removed 25 garbage size truck loads of gook. Also the municipality has provided a huge water pump to pump the overflow of rain water out when there is a storm. There are no crocodiles, never were, but the turtles that ugly-scruffy-mean loves to chase are thriving.

Now back to the standoff between AlmostRelated Granny and now Hero Dog. Word spreads fast in Klong Toey and next morning, Master Cartoon’s kindergarten teacher and his two older grade school sisters came and talked sweetly to everyone, including Granny and the dog. I guess a near drowning can be a wakeup call to remind those close to you that they value you.

Later that morning, Master Cartoon, not really clean but clean enough, went back to Kindergarten 3 and his stinky heroic dog was allowed to join him, again as long as he stayed outside. To finish, the canal/swamp is clean and tolerable today. And the ancient three sacred trees long ago planted alongside have formal dresses hanging from them, following old custom for favours granted.

And lastly, the dog is behaving calmer and more like a hero than hungry ugly-scruffy-mean. He accompanies Master Cartoon to kindergarten and dutifully waits outside until his boy leaves in the afternoon. Cartoon then walks ugly-scruffymean — home. Or is it the other way around?

Even if you really love and protect puppy dogs and their grown-up relatives, this particular dog might push you beyond the outer limits of “Oh, what a sweet doggie. I’ve always wanted a friendly doggie like that.”

First glimpse says he “ain’t the pick of the litter.” Not a cutie pie: or a huggee type. Crawling with fleas, always scratching and he totally fits the ugly-scruffy-mean category. Also walks sort of three legged funny-like gait with a front paw that did heal on its own, but gimpy plus a torn ear that grew back crooked from losing a serious battle to a pack of similar ruffian dogs some time ago.

If there were such categories in Best Dog contests for “ugly, mean scruffy, he’s a winner”... Maybe not first place champion, but he’s certainly in the top five from the alleyways of Klong Toey Slum Thailand. And Top Five in Klong Toey translates into champion almost anywhere else.

When you walk to the end of one or another of our hidden alleyways, you will inevitably meet one or more of these unkempt critters. The “meeting” is never pleasant. You will usually escape without being bitten, but the snarling, gnashing of teeth and wide-eyed barking can leave you feeling as if you were assaulted.

Ugly-scruffy-mean belongs to Master Cartoon. Or is it the other way around? It’s hard to tell sometimes. Master Cartoon is one of the finest seven-year-old boys you would ever want to meet. Like ugly-scruffy-mean, he grew up rough and tumble.

He is mostly barefoot — he owned no shoes and had only one pair of hand-me-down flip flops that had been left behind at the local temple. If you gave him a pair of socks he probably wouldn’t know how to put them on because socks go with shoes. Without shoes, socks just aren’t needed.

But he’s kindergarten young at seven years old, and our dog is getting old at seven years in dog-count. But most important, You can trust your life with either of them.

You could say ugly-scruffy-mean Dog is a oneboy mutt. He follows Cartoon everywhere or maybe leads him everywhere. On warm nights, when it’s cooler outside than in Almost-Related Granny’s clapboard lean-to.

Cartoon and the dog sleep together under the stars. Besides, the dog stinks so much from the polluted swamp and canal that Granny won’t let him in her shack. And if Master Cartoon hangs around the dog for very long, Granny won’t let him into the shack, either. At least not until he’s had a real bath and with soap, and washes his hair.

Inside or outside though, ugly- mean-scruffy guards Cartoon jealously – as if he were one of his own litter of pups. He barks in frustration when Cartoon goes into the shack and barks excitedly as soon as he returns outside.

Which brings us to a near disaster just a couple weeks ago when ugly-mean-scruffy became a slum-swamp hero dog by saving Cartoon’s life. The dog had jumped into the swamp to catch a turtle and Cartoon followed right behind, jumping into putrid water as if it were a hotel pool. He then tried to stand on the trash that floats on the surface or just below, as if there were stepping stones that he could walk on to the other bank. He sank like a rock, and when he came up he was choking, spitting out trash and muck.

Panicking, he grabbed onto ugly-meanscruffy’s tail, who dog-paddled furiously to keep them both afloat. In water, the turtle was faster than the mutt. The fleeing turtle did as turtles do… took a deep dive under the trash. The dog didn’t dive, as Master Cartoon had grabbed his tail and was screaming loudly.

A refuse collector pushing his three-wheel cart (sa-leng) along the far bank saw them and threw an inflated plastic ball to Cartoon, like a lifeguard buoy. By then both boy and dog were thrashing about, afraid of drowning. But holding onto one another and the ball-buoy, they relaxed momentarily, treaded water and figured out a way to go three metres to shore.

Master Cartoon’s almost-related granny had warmed him no fewer than a dozen times to never play near the swamp and to never ever go in the water. To make sure, she swore to him about hungry crocodiles lurking beneath the swamp trash. Said you can’t see them, but they’re always there, hidden in the gook and the muck and swamp’s many dark recesses, just waiting for little boys.

Holding onto the ball with one hand and the tail of ugly- scruffy-mean with the other, boy and dog performed something of a synchronised swimming routine. Wasn’t of Olympic quality, mind you, but it was enough to save them. They began dog paddling their way to shore. Once there, they scampered and climbed onto dry ground, both covered in soiled and torn plastic bags and reeking of stagnant swamp water.

Just about the time Master Cartoon began breathing a sigh of relief, Almost-Related Granny began whacking him with her walking stick: ignoring her swamp warnings, again for nearly drowning, and mostly, forgetting that he was her meal ticket.

Ugly-scruffy-mean was busy shaking off water and trash, but when he stopped he took notice of the ruckus. He didn’t like what he saw. Standing dog-legged, even with his gimp front paw, he snarled at Granny and her stick.

But before that standoff, let’s back up a bit. How did seven-year-old Master Cartoon and his two slightly older-grade school sisters, Miss Stamp and Miss Peanut, end up living with a betel-nut-chewing, walking-stick-swinging elderly lady in a claptrap lean-to that hugs the edge of a putrid swamp. And, if you believe Granny’s scare-tactic stories, living no further than a splash from hungry swamp crocodiles.

As things often go in the slums, Cartoon’s mum knew Granny. Kind of knew her, at least. And for Mum, “kinda” was good enough because she favoured drugs over her children. By pawning her litter off on Granny she could walk away from all responsibility.

In the distorted thinking that often governs these kinds of deals, Mum and Granny saw this arrangement as a win-win. Mum was free and Granny had a meal ticket. Or tickets. With three children under her charge, she could put them to work salvaging sellable trash. The three-wheeled motorised cart she had once used for collection had long ago been stolen, and she had a gimp hip that ached she walked a lot.

With three children helping, she figured her life would be easier and she might even be able to one day buy another motorised cart. Her fostering of the kids was anything but an act of love. It was a business investment. Plus they could move a bit of drugs for her now and then. You know, when the police were not looking.

To make sure the investment brought a return, she told Cartoon and his sisters that they had to collect and sell enough refuse to generate at least 20 baht a day. Less than that, they didn’t eat. There wouldn’t be enough money for instant noodles (the staple food of the indigent poor) and for her betel-nut habit.

The deal was struck before ugly-scruffy-mean had attached himself to Master Cartoon.

This all happened after the pack of dogs had

Plus they could move a bit of drugs for her now and then. You know, when the police were not looking.