My name is Sam Si.

My name is Sam Si.

posted in: Dog Stories | 0

My story nearly ended before I could even tell it to you. I can no longer live at the dog sanctuary I have called home for over four years, and unless I am adopted, I have no other alternatives here in Thailand other than being turned loose – which would ensure a fate worse than death for me, most likely. You will see why if you read my story below.

Thank goodness, my loving mama here cannot bear to have anything like that happen to me. She put out an appeal for help that rang all the way across the world, and soon I will fly across oceans and over continents on a journey to a new life in a new land – the USA. Many people all over the world love me and are following my story – from Germany and other parts of Europe, to Thailand, to people in the land that I will soon call home – North America. They adore me and pray that soon I will find the happy ending that I deserve. They tell me that this is my chance – my moment to become one of these so-called “pets”, one of the luckiest of all dogs – the kind that live in a house, sleep in a bed, and have humans they get to call their very own!

It really does sound like a fantasy, I know it does. I know it’s so much to ask for, so I am trying to keep a level head. I am such a homely little street dog, born in an alley, who called a pile of trash home and raised my newborns there. I was lucky enough to find myself under Elfe’s protective wing for the past four years, but to remain here means certain death for me.

I must go and seek my new life now. And I hang my head in a mixture of anxiety and despondence, because I fear no one will ever really love me – but the humans around me scratch my chin and pat me kindly. They tell me I am not a homely street dog, but a beautiful little 33 lb girl, only 5 years young, with a whole life ahead of me – and they tell me I have a sweet and lovely heart, which fills me with bashful joy, because I have a hard time believing all that about myself.


But let me dial this story back to where it all began…

I was born on a Thai island called Koh Samui. I know what you’re thinking. The images splashed across the tourist brochures are LOVELY…and rightly so. Our island is a haven for visitors, a paradise of white sand beaches and palm trees and resorts with infinity pools overlooking the ocean.

   

And in part because of kind-hearted tourists and local merchants, more of us survive than usual. We have learned to beg from strangers and to accept their affection, and in return we often receive a few chips or bit of leftover dinner. Even the most unsocialized among us survive on the surplus of food waste to be scavenged. 

   

Life on the streets for me among many roaming soi (street) dog packs, sometimes-malicious humans, and ever-present zooming traffic posed a constant threat to my livelihood. But I was born on the streets and learned well from my mama, a street dog before me. I survived puppyhood, one of a tiny percentage of us babies who do, and matured into a young adult – a smaller percentage still. I was even hit once by a car myself. The driver didn’t bother to stop, but I am a tough girl and never complained. I limped it off for a day or two and no one would ever now be the wiser if Elfe had not witnessed it with her own eyes. I had let my guard down that day, but that was my first and last auto mistake. I am nothing if not clever – that’s why I am alive today.
Around that time, an older vendor woman who sold lottery tickets in a local marketplace took a shine to me, for some unknown reason – maybe I reminded her of a dog she once knew, or maybe she was drawn to my heart of gold, once I overcome my shyness – so she began saving scraps of food for me. I, in turn, made the marketplace my common haunt.
When I was a little over one year old, in the middle of the miserable, flooded, rainy season on Koh Samui, I gave birth, right there near the marketplace. The woman and a few other kindly vendors gathered some old and unused bits of furniture and large scraps and heaped them together to make me a sort of lean-to – a bit of shelter from the daily storms. Can you see me inside it?

However, the sides were open so when the wind got going, lashing rain slanted right in, soaking us. Gaps in the “roof” above us between the assorted items allowed rain to pour right in and drench us. The ground continually puddled under my babies, and I feared they would drown, as they were so young that they were scarcely mobile, too young to even save their own lives should they happen to turn their faces into the water while sleeping.

Still, despite my fears, I struggled on, seeking what food I could to sustain myself and my newborns and protecting them from the elements as best I could. The days passed quickly and all too soon, my wee ones – all of whom I had managed to keep alive! – discovered their legs. One by one, they began to wobble unsteadily but determinedly away from our small shelter. I was terrified for their welfare. A busy street lay not far from the marketplace and I had seen enough squashed, flattened newborns in my time to know what fate awaited them. Desperately, I lunged for my babies over and over again, scruffing and dragging them back to safety – but it was exhausting work. I had eight little ones to protect and hardly enough food to sustain the energy required for this yeoman’s job.

Dear Elfe, who also happens to run a large dog sanctuary on Koh Samui, was at the market shopping one afternoon and witnessed my desperate struggle. She could not take us all home at that time but she captured these photos of us (it was a rare dry day) and begged that we be brought into a small, unused vendor stall in the big market hall. My lottery lady and a few others agreed to the plan, and we enjoyed relative safety – though it was damp and we lived amidst squalor – for a few more weeks there. 

I was also in constant view of many of the vendors who took pity on me, so food scraps were a bit more consistent during that period. However, my children were growing bigger and stronger with each passing day – it was only a matter of time before they were climbing up and over the small partitions that had once held them safely inside our stall.

Elfe returned to the marketplace a few weeks later and was distraught to find me once again in a state of utter exhaustion due to the vigilance required to keep my babies safe. She could not bear to return the following weekend, only to likely find one or more of my babies killed by traffic – so that very day, she brought us all home. Nine new mouths to feed! But, she felt, what other choice did she have…?

At Elfe’s, me and my babies were placed in a large, enclosed run. We were given rugs to lie on and we had ample sunshine, shade, and an elevated platform – a cage with the door kept open – for me to occasionally retreat from my little ones and lie on. It was such a wonderful change for our entire family – I went from being a skinny bag of bones, living in constant fear…

…to being a peaceful, happy mama with food and water provided in ample amounts. I now had nothing to fear from traffic, humans, or other dogs. A dream come true for a gal like me!

   

   

For many months, our life was peaceful, happy – and SAFE – for the first time ever. My babies grew bigger and fatter, and I put weight on, too! We were all so happy, and no cares intruded on our small world together.

Three months after our arrival, one of my sons was placed with forever people on Koh Samui – and to this day he is the apple of their eye. I licked him good-bye as I told him to make me proud and be a very good boy.


I miss him dearly, but I am so happy for him. He is living the dream, with a real family to call his own. Life as an actual so-called ‘house dog’?! I have heard of such a thing, but it’s hard to believe it really exists. Still – I like to try to picture my son, all grown up now and so handsome. I’m not even sure what, exactly, these things called “houses” are but I bet they’re pretty amazing, as the other dogs speak of them as if they are paradises on earth. They say in houses there are places to lie down that are even softer than a rug on concrete, softer even than a grassy patch on the ground. How can that be?? I have no idea – but I am thrilled that at least one of our family got the chance to find out.

More weeks, and then months passed. My babies were growing to be so big and strong – even today, all seven of my remaining children live happily here with me at Elfesworld, and they remain the best of friends together in one large run with other friends.

Meanwhile, however, at this time, new dogs were arriving at Elfesworld weekly. Worldwide and local efforts to ban the dog meat trade were finally moving forward and there were few places where survivors plucked from government holding facilities could go. Elfe opened her doors to many of these poor souls, despite her resources already being stretched thin due to caring for so many needy animals. Perhaps this influx of new dogs intimidated me – or perhaps it was just one particular dog who rubbed me the wrong way, triggering reactive behavior to all of my neighbors – but one day, I took great offense at a dog on the other side of our run fence, barking and growling at it ferociously. Unfortunately, I picked the wrong dog to tangle with, and my paws were badly bitten through the chain link. Instead of learning my lesson, however, I began fighting with many of the new dogs through the fence, and several responded in kind. This was unusual for me, as I generally get along quite well with other dogs. I love human affection, and am not above getting grumpy with other dogs who crowd me when I am getting rare “people time” – but grumbling tends to be the most I do. I lived on the street among other dogs for over a year, of course – and here at Elfesworld, I live among hundreds of dogs. It was just something about the fence…and my babies all around me to protect…and all those highly-stressed new arrivals just on the other side of me, I guess. Here you can see me giving the hairy eyeball to another dog who I felt was getting a bit too close to me and my brood…

But you can see I never begrudged humans from getting up close and personal with my kids. As a matter of fact – and this may sound strange coming from a street dog who relied on her wits to survive for so long – but I actually ADORE human company, and especially their affection. I don’t know what my own mom would make of me now – I simply LIVE for the moments when kind humans take a moment out of their busy lives to stop and stroke my face and back, talk softly to me, and show me a glimpse of what life as one of these so-called “pets” could really be. If only that was the fate I was meant to have. I like to dream sometimes and pretend that could be me…

But as I say, it is only a dream. I don’t dare really imagine that such a thing could ever come true for a girl like me.

Anyway, back to my story. It wasn’t like I was fence fighting all the time! I want to make this clear! For two years, me and my children lived happily in our large pen. For the most part, I did well…but as I said, when the dog meat trade arrivals increased sharply, the behavior returned with a vengeance. Elfe knew I generally like other dogs, and she was concerned I would get injured again through the fence, or injure another dog. She decided to move me and my family – my remaining seven children – to the largest run, situated right at the entrance to Elfesworld. It is expansive, with room to roam, and surrounded by greenery. It has many salas (bamboo platforms, both covered and uncovered) to play on and around and to lie on or under. There were many other dogs in this, the biggest run on the land, but I did fine with them, as you can see below.

For a couple of years, I did beautifully here. It was like the perfect combination of having my family around me but also having a bit of freedom, due to the spacious accommodations and other dog friends around us. Here I am, front and center, with some pals and kiddos around me…

…and here I am, relaxed and stretched out for a shady nap, enjoying the comfort of the sala on a hot, tropical day among many friends.

Fast forward to six months ago. Several small cages with enclosed tops were built along the perimeter of our giant run, for emergency cases – dogs that required separation in a pinch. They had tops for shade and also to prevent dogs from climbing out of them. They were built literally right up along our enclosure’s fence. No one realized how tempted I had been for some time by noisy, yummy-smelling chickens owned by a nearby neighbor. Actually, their calls and clucks had tempted many of us but I am very persistent and was determined to tease out this fun puzzle which would presumably, once figured out, lead to a tasty reward. The answer lay in scaling these smaller cages – they were perfect “ladders” to get to the higher enclosure fence beyond as Elfe has now realized, in regretful hindsight. From the roof of the smaller cages, I could easily go up and over the perimeter fence.
Having successfully hunted my first chicken about a half a year ago, I was hooked. In a home, I would have constant stimulation of a family and presumably, toys and affection. I would do fabulous at obedience and in fact, any advanced training beyond that – I could probably be an agility or flyball superstar! – and I surely would master difficult doggie puzzle toys just for fun! But here, with few opportunities or stimulations to work my clever brain, I had to devise my own amusement…and that landed me in a very precarious situation, indeed.

You see, in Thailand, though dogs are generally well-liked, there is little legislature to protect us so we must rely upon the good nature of the majority of our fellow human citizens. However, depending on the area, martial law is often the rule for dogs who harm property. And I escaped several times before my clever trick was discovered. Now the neighbor has flat-out stated that he will kill me if I return. Worse still, he has threatened to poison other dogs at our sanctuary as retaliation for my actions – and ours is a large piece of land, easily accessible by a neighbor intent on pursuing malicious mischief out of anger. Elfe was terrified both for myself and for her other dogs. The neighbor was insistent that I be somehow disposed of: either let loose somewhere far away, where I probably wouldn’t live long on my own, or euthanized. After Elfe made restitutions for his losses and offered heartfelt apologies, he grudgingly agreed that I could continue to live at the sanctuary on one condition: total confinement. So one of the same temporary holding cages with its roof to prevent climbing – one that in fact was a freedom ticket to my fun hunting adventures – has now tragically become my jail cell.

It has been over five months now and still I sit in this small cage with just enough room to move around a bit in any direction. I watch the world go by through my chain link bars and my children approach me frequently to lick me through the bars and receive reassuring noises and whines in return. But I am one of the smartest girls here on this property and my clever brain cannot tolerate this kind of imprisonment much longer. I am desperately sad in my tiny cell and Elfe’s heart is breaking a little bit more with each passing day. As you can imagine, for a street dog who has slept under the stars and roamed at will most of my life – this is a fate worse than death. Caging me like this was the final option left to Elfe. She has done everything in her power to make my confinement tolerable, including initially trying me in another “baby run” with a litter of orphaned pups. It worked well for a few weeks, as they happily consumed all my attention and focus…

   

…but one day I climbed right out and took myself off for some fun at the neighbor’s place again, much to everyone’s dismay and heartache (and anger, in the case of the neighbor). Now that I spend 24/7 in this tiny cage, Elfe has continued to try to make my situation tolerable, from placating me with attention whenever she is nearby, to setting aside 15 minutes each day to give me a long leashed walk that will stretch my legs. Here you can see me on a fun walk with Elfe…
https://www.facebook.com/video.php?v=499112906893575

But with over 600 other dogs to care for, these efforts – while admirable – are not nearly enough to bridge the gap between a life of misery and one of joy. Here is a brief video of the prison I now call home…
https://www.facebook.com/video.php?v=481287648676101

I sit in my cage and dream of the days, not so very long ago, when I was always first in line to greet any visitor – and when I was allowed to roam free on our evening walks through the property with Elfe by my side, in the midst of a large pack of us dogs.

   

Elfe’s many international supporters have never known her to be in such despair over a dog, but I am such a sweet girl, who stole Elfe’s heart from the first day I arrived with my eight babies in tow. I have come so far – from a haphazard collection of trashed furniture and home goods to my sheltered life here. Is there yet one more step along this journey called life that I may be allowed to take – as step in a better direction?  

I am in all other ways lovely, as described by myriad visitors and all of our sanctuary staff. Although I occasionally do grumble at my peers, I am generally fine around them, especially young dogs and puppies. I am thrilled with any human attention and am an extremely affectionate girl. I am clean and was always quiet and very calm before I was confined. Even now, in my tiny prison, I do howl and bark at times, but it is only when despair overtakes me. I have even begun biting at the bars of my cage in quiet desperation, as if I could somehow chew my way out of this miserable existence. 

Elfe has circulated a desperate adoption appeal for me for many months but unfortunately – despite hundreds of shares and the support of people all over the world who are cheering me on – most of the people who are interested in adopting me live in nations where it is very difficult for me to travel to. I really need a home in North America, where I can travel immediately. And I would do best in a home without cats or other small animals. I may do fine with other dogs – I usually have – but I would probably like to meet my prospective sibling or siblings so we can decide together if we are all a good match.

So – I have just been told that the International Street Dog Foundation will be my future caretakers in only 10 days’ time. I have also been told that they’ve taken in other dogs in predicaments like mine and that those dogs have done beautifully here in the USA with a little love and patience. It’s hard to say exactly why; ISDF believes it’s in large part due to the culture shock of landing in a completely different and alien land with its strange language, customs, and climate and time change…besides which, we are usually adjusting to life as a house dog for the first time ever, a change that affectionate, human-oriented street dogs seem to welcome (but a major life change all the same, and therefore, one with generally-positive major effects on our personalities).

Me – I don’t need to know the why so much. I just wish I could know the what – what exactly does my future hold? Will my heart heal at last, and will I find a real happy ending that has eluded me for my entire life? ISDF is extremely hopeful that coming here is not so much my last resort, but rather, my very best chance – a chance for a wonderful life change for me, and the start of the rest – and best – of my life. And I am so hopeful that is the case, too.

I just need one chance to show my special someone how 

loving

clever

loyal

and WONDERFUL

I really am, if given the opportunity to show how bright my star can shine. Are you that someone who will see through my street dog exterior and into the heart of gold that beats within my hopeful chest? I am praying you are – with every beat of my sweet little hurting (but still hopeful) heart.

Love, Sam Si

For more information about adopting Sam Si, or any of our available dogs, please contact Dawn Trimmel at (414) 426-4148.