Bursting with love, the lost dog that everyone wants to take home
CAn anything tug at the heartstrings more than an abandoned dog who needs a home? Apparently not. Here is walking, barking, offering-a-paw evidence, in the form of a dog called Kai. You may have read about Kai this week. If you are an animal lover, you may have welled up a little to hear of his ordeal – abandoned at a railway station, à la Paddington bear, with a suitcase containing his belongings at his side.
Animal rescue workers in Ayr were astonished to find his food bowl in there, along with a pillow and toy. There was no note, no explanation. no owner could be traced. Kai, a shar-pei cross, two or three years old, was alone, defenceless, discarded and – being possessed of a particularly doleful-yet-photogenic expression – an immediate symbol of all that is awful in this world. Sob.
It seems a lot of people broke their hearts over Kai – then reached for their phone or laptop. Within hours of the news breaking on Monday, calls and emails were starting to come in to the Glasgow animal rescue centre where he had been taken.
Locals began turning up with food or toys and offering to take him home. The story was picked up nationally, then internationally. on Thursday, when I visit the Scottish SPCA centre, there’s something of a media scrum, the like of which has not been seen in these parts since one of the pandas at edinburgh Zoo was nearly pregnant.
The whole thing has left the usually unflappable Alan Grant, one of the centre’s senior staff but now effectively Kai’s personal assistant, wondering if he is in the middle of a strange dream, or a Hollywood movie.
‘normally you can struggle to rehome a dog like this,’ he says. ‘but not here. We’ve had offers from Australia, America, Colombia – even Peru, which made us all laugh, with the Paddington connection. It’s all a bit mad. I’ve never seen the like of it before.’
What sort of homes has Kai been offered? He whistles. ‘every sort there is. Family homes with kids, homes with pensioners who are alone, big houses, small houses, houses with paddocks or acres of land. Houses on the beach, in the country.’
but it’s not the detail of acres owned or proximity to the sea that touches here. It’s the detail that complete strangers have offered about their own lives, in explaining why they want to help.
‘one serviceman from the States has been in touch. He said he served in Iraq and had his life saved several times by the dogs he worked with, and wanted to return the favour and save Kai’s life. That one made me fill up,’ says Alan.
Somehow, in the space of a few days, Kai has gone from being the dog no one wanted to the dog the whole world wants.
It’s all very fairytale if you are in Wyoming or Wigan, but here in Glasgow there are practicalities to be dealt with. An investigation is ongoing – hence the fact that Kai has actually been deprived of his all- i mportant possessions. He hasn’t eaten from his own bowl. His toy is under lock and key – all part of ‘evidence’ in the investigation.
So if, as it seems, Kai needs a new home, how do they decide where it will be? nobody knows for sure.
‘We are in uncharted waters. What we’ve done so far is make people fill in application forms about them and their homes, then we will have to draw up criteria for selection. We don’t know what that will be. How do you pick?’
So what is he like, this dog who has captured the nation’s heart? dogs l eft at railway stations, however cute they look in pictures, must i n the flesh be difficult, violent, snappy or – yikes – super-slobbery, mustn’t they?
AS gates are clanked open, and the heady smell of dog and domestos hits you, it all starts to look more grim. on the way to Kai’s pen, I pass three other rather pathetic- l ooking strays. ‘ This morning’s arrivals,’ says Alan.
Then I meet Kai in all his wrinkly, crinkly glory, and all cynicism just goes pffft! He is beautiful, sleek of coat and curious and snuffly. He comes to say hello, tail a-wag, and his eyes meet mine. He has an eye condition which will r equire surgery the next day and one eye seems a bit weepy, his face streaked with tears, but somehow that just makes my heart go more gooey.
He licks my hand, seeking out a treat (yes, everyone has been arriving laden with goodies, like a procession of wise men bringing gifts). Yes he IS a tiny bit slobbery, but who cares? He’s gorgeous and friendly, and if he has taken a lump out of someone’s leg in the past, which is always the fear, it would be astonishing. Within ten minutes there is only one question I want to ask: ‘do you have a spare application form?’
It’s futile, of course. Kai even has celebrity fans now. The author Irvine Welsh tweeted that he would love to have him. Surely, it’s only a matter of time before Angelina Jolie says she thinks her family has space for another little ’ un. but back in the real world, it is early days for Kai’s rehabilitation. Alan, a dog behaviour expert, is assessing him but there is no sign this is a damaged dog, physically or mentally. ‘His coat is good. He is perhaps a little on the thin side – you shouldn’t really be able to see his ribs like that – but he’s in pretty good shape, apart from the eyes, which we can sort,’ says Alan.
The operation, to fix an in turning eyelid which is causing irritation, costs i n the region of £ 1,000, though. ‘I do wonder if that’s why someone got rid of him. Could they not afford it? but still, it’s odd. Why the case and all the stuff, but no note? Why not just bring him here in the first place?’
The sobering thing about Kai’s story is how routine it was to start with. either a member of the public or a member of Ayr station staff contacted the centre to say this dog had been spotted, and had been there for some time.
Then came word of the suitcase. ‘It’s the suitcase that made us go “What?”’ says Alan. ‘That’s not normal.’
What strikes you on a visit to Kai’s (temporary) new home is what a complicated relationship we brits have with our dogs. Many of the hundreds of dogs being cared for here offer evidence of human cruelty, in the form of broken limbs and souls. but the place also groans with kindness.
Alan shows me the store, where all the food and toys that have been arriving for Kai and the other animals are kept. It takes the breath away. Tins of dog food are stacked to the ceiling, and spill over into another room. There is sack after sack of toys.
The rescue centre is undergoing a major refurbishment at present and the place is full of builders. Some stop to watch Kai’s latest photo- session. He is a star, and they love him.
‘I could just take him home,’ says one of them.
Get in line, mate. There is a very british queue here.