Theres a British phrase, oft at times when their acquirement is in the ascendancy (think Christmas and pandemics): that a dog is for life. No such sentiment exists here, at least not rurally. Dogs are not so much owned as inherited; if they choose to live close to you then other humans may consider them yours, although the canines allegiance may flip at any time. Equally, if their presence a hindrance there is little saccharinity involved in ridding yourself of the nuisance. Dogs are transient.
Our original alpha male here at Sipasert, Chilo (my first Laos love), bit two individuals and was duly exiled. We have never seen him again. The same fate befell Pak Dam when, as a playful young pup, he nipped Ali. However, on that occasion, our impassioned campaigning did see him returned. Beautiful, gentle Lucy (Diagos, Pak Dams and Lulus mum – members of three separate sequential litters) simply disappeared without explanation, although I do have my suspicions as to why. She was due into season again and Pi Mai - the most lucrative period of any, let alone this tragic year - was rapidly approaching. Judging by her popularity with
rogue male dogs during her last fertile cycle, and the incessant fighting over her that ensued, I suspect she was deemed too much of a troublesome risk to have around the paying crowds expected during the festive period. Hence she was gone.
Khao (Captain Scarlet) was not ousted but sadly, finally, demonstrated that he wasnt actually indestructible when his fourth bout of bone choking progressing to blocked bowel saw him off. No doubt someone out there is questioning why a veterinarian couldnt attempt to remove the obstruction. Well what passes for a rural vets in Laos is little more than a glorified pharmacy and even if such an operation were possible the price would be beyond all but the uber rich.
Another lovable softy of a dog, When, appeared with his master (we have no idea as to the latters link to Sipasert), only then to be deserted himself. Meanwhile Diago (who adopted Martin) regularly insists on escorting us home from theirs and then generally spends the night on our balcony; whilst Pak Dam, now far more confident and and goes as he fancies, typically by his little sister, Lulu. She, coincidentally, has just
The last blog left us anticipating Pi Mai, and Laos New Years Eve 2025 (Buddhist calendar) saw our little street - that leads to the falls and festivities - lined with an assemblage of newly erected stalls. Of course there were food vendors and drink sellers alongside the stands and gambling joints, but what did stand out was the to see the crocodile show. Hopefully it wasnt an example of the critically endangered Siamese crocodile, the only crocodilian native to Laos. Regardless, no one seemed to be visiting the grim tarped enclosure which was good, as long as the poor creature wasnt relying on clientele for food.
Now, care of the Funfairs Haunted House, dusk was greeted by an all pervasive spooky sound track, an eerie endlessly looped tune that, incredibly irritatingly, also – why? – incorporated the ring tone of a phone.
Day one, New Years Day, saw a sizeable number of visitors descend and Somphones gazebos and Sipaserts stalls were doing good business. However, it was New Year and this is Laos so business was grudgingly
conducted amidst the boozy partying of the vendors themselves. Palomeis owner Po, the energy and driving force behind the temporary riverside developments, had provisioned his crew (including us: gazebo builders and litter gatherers) with team Kitas father was not best pleased: You our family. Nevertheless we split our time between collecting rubbish from the islands and waterways (benefiting all, Alis back aside) and washing the endless piles of dishes at home.
Meanwhile, Thailand was going Covid crazy with daily new infections surpassing one thousand, whilst numbers were also cranking up in Cambodia.
