Even if you don't like dogs, surely you wouldn't throw a live one away in a plastic bag in East Coast Park?
Sumiko Tan, Sunday Times 28 Jun 09;
Somewhere out there in Singapore lives a wicked person.
Earlier this month, he - or she - decided to get rid of an old, injured dog.
Maybe the dog had outlived its purpose, maybe the person had simply grown tired of it, or maybe the man's car had hit the dog in an accident - I don't know.
But I do know he has a wicked heart because, instead of taking it to a vet or even placing it with the SPCA, he stuffed the pomeranian into a red plastic bag and threw it next to a rubbish bin in East Coast Park.
Clearly, he was banking on a garbage truck picking up the bag the next morning and sending it - and the dog inside - to the incinerator.
But some dog lovers stumbled on the bag. They were shocked to discover the animal inside and thought it was dead. But touching it, they realised that beneath the tangled fur, her - it's a female - little heart was still beating.
She was dazed, frightfully thin, had ticks and was weak and shivering. She tried to stand but couldn't.
A kind young woman and her husband agreed to house the dog. They fed her and cleaned her. That first night, she whined whenever the couple left her alone. They took turns to stroke her to sleep.
The next day, they took her to a vet who said that her central nervous system had been damaged. They also took her to a groomer who shaved her hair which was matted with pee and poo.
Over the next few weeks, the couple and other dog lovers who knew about the case took the dog swimming to strengthen her legs. People donated milk, pee pads and dog T-shirts. They sent her for acupuncture treatment and teeth scaling.
She got better and began to walk a little.
Last Sunday, I went to see the dog.
She has been named Pom Pom and she's tiny. She weighs as little as a bunch of bananas, her face is the size of a tomato and she has the saddest eyes I've seen in a dog.
She's an old dog - the vet estimated her to be seven, which would be 49 in human years. Her stomach is wrinkled and her teats are saggy (maybe she was from a puppy mill). Her teeth are in terrible shape.
She's still pitifully thin and didn't wag her tail the whole time I saw her, maybe because of the nerve damage. She's still very wobbly when she walks. It's not clear if she will fully recover.
You've got to have a really hard heart not to feel sorry for her.
I love dogs but I'm just a moderate dog lover. Pom Pom's caregivers are in a different league of animal lovers altogether. They go out of their way to take care of those which are abused and abandoned.
I find it too time-consuming and heart-rending to allow myself to be affected by every abandoned dog I encounter.
Over the years, I've taken in several strays but, after a while, you give up because the process is emotionally exhausting.
There was Benjie, a beautiful terrier whom my colleagues and I rescued from the Kampong Java pound. I kept him and loved him to bits. But he had been so abused by his owner that he was mad. Even the sound of snipping scissors would enrage him and he'd bite us. I got him neutered in the hope it would calm him but nothing worked. I had to put him down.
There was another terrier who lived next to a drain in the neighbourhood and would bite anyone who got near him. For weeks I took him food but he still wouldn't go home with me. One day he just disappeared.
There was Santa, a huge, friendly, old dog who ambled into my house one Christmas Day, made himself at home and died a year later of numerous ailments.
There was also Latka, whom we found trapped in a plot of land next door. We kept her and she died of old age.
Then there was Pepper, a Jack Russell we found tied to a lamp-post. We kept him for a month and then couldn't anymore because he was too wild and kept biting my other dog. I sent him to the SPCA, only to discover to my horror later that he had been put down because he was deemed unsuitable for adoption.
My heart went out to every dog and I cried buckets when they died. After a few rounds of this, you harden yourself.
I see a dog wandering around the neighbourhood and my instinct is to stop and check if it's lost and to find its owner or take it home. But these days, I tell myself that the dog's actually okay and I turn away. I can't get involved with it.
It's the same when it comes to animal rights activism.
Although I'm aware of the horror stories behind how animals are hunted for our food and used in products testing, I still eat hamburgers and fried chicken, I have not given up tuna and shark's fin, I still use cosmetics that rely on animal testing, and I would wear fur if I had to.
I can't allow myself to be a bleeding heart or I won't be able to function.
I remind myself we're all part of the food chain. Other than dogs and cats which have been domesticated, animals are meant to be eaten and used by human beings, although I grant it would be nice if there were less painful ways of killing them.
In fact, some animal rights activism borders on idiocy.
The folks at Peta, People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals, for example, recently launched a campaign to try and change how children view fish (because Peta believes it is cruel to hunt and kill fish).
So, Peta says, fish should be renamed 'sea kittens'. The rationale is that if kids are taught that fish are as adorable as kittens, they will grow up to be vegetarians and leave the poor fish alone. (This, of course, ignores the irony of how cats eat fish.)
Or take how Peta reacted when American President Barack Obama killed a fly while being interviewed on TV. It urged Mr Obama to be more humane towards flies and sent him a Katcha Bug Humane Bug Catcher, a device that allows users to trap a housefly and release it outside. Goodness, it's a cursed fly.
Why do some people love animals and others don't? Is empathy and antipathy for animals something you are born with or can it be acquired?
I've a friend who says he's 'neutral' about dogs although I suspect he dislikes them. He puts it down to how he was pounced upon by a great dane when he was a boy.
Another friend avoids all animals because when she was growing up, her mother often told her how dirty they were. She has never patted a dog in her life.
I used to think that animal haters can't be nice people but I've revised my opinion. Adolf Hitler was a dog-lover.
Being an animal lover doesn't necessarily mean you're a good person and vice versa. We're different, that's all, and there's no way you can convince one group to start feeling like the other.
But I'm sure even the most neutral of dog lovers will say it's heartless to throw away a dog in a plastic bag.
The thing is, the person who did it to Pom Pom probably didn't give a hoot what others think. I doubt he's losing sleep over his dastardly deed.
Somewhere in Singapore lives a wicked person.
What sweet revenge it'll be if Pom Pom recovers fully and goes on to live out the rest of her life showered with love and care.
