Farewell to Little Mr. No Name

As I write this, my friend Raquel stands over little Mr. No-Name, as I've come to call him (everyone else just calls him No Name). She's fanning the flies off him. He is pretty well unconscous at this point and will probably die before the day is over. She doesn't want me to see him.

Mr. No Name, a darling little black dog, was hit by a car a few months ago, and lost the use of his back legs. He's been living in a compound near where I'm staying. The people in the compound tried to make some wheels for him, but it is hilly here and he kept falling when he tried to run with the other dogs. He's very skinny because it is difficult for him to get to the dog bowls (I bring him food when I can). He has no control over his bowels so he must live outdoors. His back legs are a mess from dragging them on the ground and relieving himself on them. No one here has been seriously tending to him. Dogs here just seem to be part of the background.

At this point, I actually hope he dies quickly. The little guy has suffered tremendously. After I would bring him food, he would drag himself over to the office, and lie down next to my office chair. I would have to put him back outside because the stench was unbearable. I tried to give him a bath, but he used his two front legs to scamper away.

After I fed him yesterday, he came back to my office. His eye was all puffy and full of pus. I tried to clean it out for him, but again, I had to put him back outside. Now he's giving up.

I contacted three animal welfare organizations, one here (actually in name only) and two in Chiang Mai. None was willing to shelter a wounded stray. Of the contacts I made, only one performs euthanasia on dogs and it's in Chiang Mai, a good distance away. Even with the means, he wouldn't survive the trip.

The local vet refuses to euthanize him. It's just not in the culture here, despite there being a huge population of stray dogs, many of whom wind up like Mr. No-Name. The shelters won't take animals that can't be placed. They just let the dogs suffer until they're dead.

I'm trying desperately to learn to accept cultural differences. After all, who am I to buzz in from Scottsdale, Arizona and tell people here how to live?

Perhaps if I'd gotten here earlier, there may have been some options. Now there are none. May his suffering end quickly.