Shonzy Dog

When asked to use the word ‘fortunate’ in a sentence, many of my students wrote: I am fortunate to be born in Bhutan. This sentiment may apply to humans, but it definitely does not apply to dogs. I would say a dog is very unfortunate to be born in Bhutan. There are, of course, worse countries to be a dog, but I think Bhutan is a pretty unlucky place to be a dog. My students, and I’m sure other Bhutanese would agree, attest to the fact that dogs are treated well here. I don’t know any official figures but I would say at least half of Bhutan’s dogs are stray. Scott and I see them all over Kanglung – under cars when it’s hot, grouped on certain bends of the road or in front of certain shops, in the middle of the street, at the primary school, at the college, sometimes even in the classrooms. It’s true that Bhutanese usually leave leftover rice and curry in piles on the ground for dogs. But it’s also true that many of the dogs we see have severe cases of mange, grossly infected parts of their bodies, limps. Among stray dogs worldwide I’m sure, there is an intense pack mentality here as well as strict territorial boundaries. Scott and I were once stunned to see a very weak, sick dog almost get torn apart by a group of four much healthier dogs. Scott had to break up the attack with harsh yelling.

There’s also no regular program for sterilization. Every so often you’ll see college students armed with big nets who have been paid to chase down dogs in an attempt to catch them for neutering. Dogs that have been sterilized are easy to spot. They have a chunk cut out of their ear leaving behind an obvious V-notch. But many dogs haven’t been caught in these big nets so are free to roam around and procreate. There are dogs that have one litter after another after another. A Bhutanese friend who “takes care” of one such dog once said in reply to a question about a new littler: “A couple of them are still living, unfortunately.” To her, it was sad that any of them lived.

It’s not common to find lovable stray dogs here. All of them will bark endlessly if you pass them at night. Some bite. Most just ignore you. But there are a few dogs that have endeared themselves to me. One of them Scott and I call Shonzy Dog. From the day we moved to Kanglung, this soft, fluffy white dog was always seen near the Shonzy Restaurant with other dogs, usually on the street above Shonzy or but sometimes actually at the restaurant. Shonzy is located across the street from our driveway. An early Kanglung memory is of eating a lunch at Shonzy and this dog resting its head on Scott’s foot under the table. I liked Shonzy Dog mostly because he (or she – we never figured it out) was very cute and seemingly healthy. I think Shonzy Dog had a reputation for biting, but he never tried to bite us. I was more interested in him than he was in me. Every morning on our way to work, Scott and I could see Shonzy Dog laying in the road. On recent hot days, we’d see half his body under a car. A couple months ago, the Shonzy Restaurant moved locations, only two store fronts up the hill. A new restaurant opened in Shonzy’s old location – Queenzang. But we couldn’t bring ourselves to call Shonzy Dog Queenzang Dog. To us, the white dog would always be Shonzy Dog.

Well, a few mornings ago, I noticed that Shonzy Dog wasn’t in his usual spot in the morning. In fact, the other dogs he’s usually with were resting in our housing complex. I didn’t see him when I walked home at lunch or later that day walking home from school. He still wasn’t around the next day and today, no Shonzy Dog. Just now, as I arrived home from school, I saw one of my students who lives near me. I asked him about Shonzy Dog’s whereabouts. Yeshi said the dog was hit by a truck and died. Yeshi said he didn’t see it but he heard. When I said that I was sad, Yeshi agreed, “He was cute.”

At least now I know. It’s no longer a mystery. Shonzy Dog is dead. I just hope he continues to move up the reincarnation ladder.