[Apologies for the delay in posting, but a whole heap of work dropped on my desk yesterday.]

In Part 1, I told you the background of our dogging adventures and why we can’t trust breeders.

In Part 2, we decided to contact a trainer instead, someone we had previously done business with. As we start, the two dogs — Sausage and Husky — have been introduced.

We are at an open area, with two dogs getting to know each other. In the meantime, we’re sitting on benches or walking around, having a pretty friendly discussion actually.

Story #1 was that the husky’s owner imported the dog from the Ukraine, but lost the papers. Story #2 is that he bought it from a pet shop but saw the importation papers. Let’s continue.

Is the dog microchipped, I asked. That would be an easy thing to do, get the microchip number and try to trace it.

Er, no the dog’s not microchipped. Story #3: The owner said he saw the dog and fell in love with it and bought it on impulse.

J is not looking happy at this time. So it doesn’t really come from the Ukraine? You don’t have any papers?

See, Bill, I added, here’s the thing. We know Singaporeans, and we know how status-conscious they are. Hell, we’ve both worked with them with years. If a Singaporean imported a husky or bought an imported husky from the Ukraine, you bet your bottom dollar they’d demand the papers so they could show everybody what a special dog they have. (Cold-climate dogs like Samoyeds, Malamutes and Huskies are very high-status dogs here.)

Bill laughs. You’re right. Look, let me tell you something. Story #4: The owner doesn’t know very much English at all. In fact, he works at a local factory but has Singapore permanent residency. When I asked him why he bought the husky, he told me, “jaga rumah”.

A dog to guard the house? I repeat. But huskies aren’t guard dogs. They’re working pack animals.

Story #5: Right right, but what do you expect? He walked into a pet store, wanting a dog to guard his place and the person at the counter sold him a husky. Both people were ignorant about the nature of Siberian Huskies.

So this dog could’ve come from a puppy mill?

Bill is reluctant but eventually spits it out. Yes, I suppose so.

I know what J is thinking because I’m thinking the same thing. Shit! We look over at how our darling is doing and she is behaving impeccably. The husky is a bit nervous around her but Sausage is clear-headed and focused. She also appears to be completely in control of the situation, so that part’s going well at least.

You’ve trained him, I asked, desperately trying to find a silver lining. The puppy may have come from a mill and may have been inbred up the wazoo but all I can think is how nice it would be to have such a laid-back boy as part of our household, what a smile it would bring to the kids’ faces. I am ashamed to say that I am wanting — subconsciously pleading! — Bill to convince me to buy the dog, despite all the warning signs.

I’ve had him for 3 months and I’ve trained him, Bill replies. Story #6: When his owner brought him to me, he’d had him for six months. He said he wanted me to train the dog to be a guard dog. And I said that I wouldn’t do that because huskies are not guard dogs. I told him I would train the dog to be better behaved, but I could not train what wasn’t there to begin with.

I’m still desperately trying to get a handle on the situation. And did the dog have any problems with the training?

No, not at all! He is a beautiful dog, very eager to please, very intelligent. Story #7: But you should have seen him when I first went to pick him up. He was locked in a cage, lying in his own shit. I had to take him out and clean him up before I even left the guy’s house. But what can you expect? The owner wasn’t an educated man, he didn’t know how to handle the dog.

You can call me all sorts of a fool. And I deserve it. Because we bought the dog. The walk home was fine. I put Sausage in the kitchen so we could let the husky sniff his way around the house. And Sausage wasn’t happy. I suppose meeting a strange dog outside is one thing, but having that strange dog inside her territory is something else again.

We were still hopeful, thinking we could settle things down. Until the husky lunged at Sausage and tried to bite her.

We rang Bill immediately and told him to come and take the dog back. No more than fifteen minutes had passed since we first took possession of the husky.

This is too much, J told Bill. The husky is in a strange environment, and had already deferred to Sausage once. Now he tried to attack her. How is this a laid-back dog?

Bill tried to talk us into some “remedial” work but, by this stage, everything came crashing down — lie after lie after lie. It took a dog’s fangs to do it, but we finally had the sense scared into us.

We’ll pay you for your trouble, J said, for driving out here (Bill’s centre and home is a 20-minute drive away) and having to come back to pick up the dog.

And dammit if Bill didn’t ask for MY$250. We paid him the money, shook hands and waved good-bye to the husky.

Yes sure all’s well that ends well but, days later, I was still feeling devastated. Nobody, and I include myself in this, acquited themselves well in this episode. J and I were too eager to be taken in, and a person we trusted and had done business with before was too eager to take advantage of it.

In Malaysia/Singapore, it comes down to this. If we can’t trust the pet shops and we can’t trust the breeders and we can’t trust the trainers, whom can we trust? An expat family that gets the servant to walk the dog every day because they can’t be bothered? Owners who let their dogs run off-leash along the road?

When I walk Sausage now, I carry a sturdy walking stick with me. I am sick of being accosted by dogs off-leash who dare run up to us and begin posturing and even snapping at us while their Western owners stand back and do nothing. These people are the only other option for getting a second dog? Seriously?

So we know. As long as we live in Asia, we will not be getting a companion for Sausage. Actually, I can live with that now. We had been so caught up in the desire for another dog that we overlooked our existing one. And the truth of the matter is, Sausage is so loyal, so obedient (for a bull terrier), so gentle with us and yet fierce with perceived intruders, so funny and entertaining that it isn’t such a sacrifice after all. And if you’ve learnt anything from this series of posts, then I’m happy, and I wish the same happiness on you and your wonderful pets.

I’m going now to give my bully a big snuffle, and get some wet sloppy kisses in return. Catch you next week.

Click for Part 1 of our Tale of Woe regarding the dogs.

We loved Cookie (we still love Cookie and I wave to her when I see her even if I can’t actually touch her) and liked having two dogs in the house, but what to do? We didn’t want a puppy mill dog and, after Cookie’s experience, couldn’t trust a breeder to tell us the truth. We tried importing a dog but four attempts failed. You’d think we’d take away some lesson in that, wouldn’t you, but you’re underestimating our tenacity and stubbornness.

Anyway, as I said in the last blog post, a year passed and we thought it time to start again. And we thought of Bill the Trainer. Okay, he was a trainer not a breeder, but surely he would know breeders that he could trust (breeders that wouldn’t lie to him). We didn’t mind the breed as long as (a) the dog was utterly laid back, and (b) male. Those were our thoughts at the time.

As far as Sausage had progressed, we still knew she hadn’t lost her determination or natural suspicion. That’s actually what we like about her, because having a protection/guard dog around is the best deterrent to home crime in Malaysia. But we didn’t want such instincts for the second dog who, instead, would need to be completely non-aggressive. Furthermore, because Bill already had experience handling Sausage, we were confident that, with his knowledge, he would know what kind of dog we needed. We called him and outlined our requirements.

Have you thought of a husky?, he asked.

A husky? Really?

They are lovely dogs, very laid back, very relaxed. In fact, I have one here with me now. He’s a young dog by now, eleven months old, but he is intelligent, trainable and gets on extremely well with both people and other dogs.

Wow. Okay, where did he come from?

Story #1: The Ukraine. The owner had him imported from the Ukraine and paid SG$2,000 for him, but he was stuck in a cage in an air-conditioned room all day and was getting destructive. The owner knew it was no condition to keep the dog but couldn’t spend more time with him so he sent him to me for training and to see if the dog could find a better home. I have him here now.

Can we come and see him?

And so we went to see this Slavic imported dog. And he was wonderful. Curious, friendly, approachable.

He comes from Singapore via the Ukraine, you say.

Yes, I have no doubt he comes from overseas because there are no husky breeders in Singapore.

It doesn’t matter what we think, J says, the dog has to get on with Sausage. If he doesn’t, it’s no deal.

So we set up a meeting in a neutral area for the following day. We go home very excited and tell the kids. The Wast has always had a hankering for a husky. The kids agree to come with Sausage and me on daily walks but I tell them that they will probably have control of Sausage while I walk Husky, because he is a powerful dog. This is despite the fact that both J and I have already walked Husky. He has been an absolute angel, but you can never tell and we’re playing it safe.

At home, J remarks that the Ukraine is a strange place to import huskies from, considering the climate that, he says, is not too dissimilar to Malaysia in terms of humidity and, near Odesa, temperature. With this in mind, the next morning, I do an internet search on huskies and the Ukraine. I figure that if a breeder really exported one of his puppies to Singapore, he’d want to crow about it on his website. I enter the search terms, hit Enter….

Do you know how many people breed and sell huskies in Singapore? Go here and have a look.  And most of them are pretty suspicious, with their low price tags, anonymous listings and communication style of you-email-us-we’ll-think-about-getting-back-to-you.

I was devastated. What did this mean? Well, for one, Bill was wrong. There are husky breeders in Singapore. They’re not reputable, but they’re there. Shit. Okay, there was a very simple way out of this. I texted Bill and asked him to bring along the dog’s papers when we met at the designated rendezvous point.

Story #2 came with the text reply: Dog was purchased from a pet shop in Singapore. According to owner, dog had papers, including import and export papers from Singapore. In the process of shifting from Spore and back again, he cannot recall where the papers are left.

I called Bill and we talked. He assured me that the dog came from the Ukraine and that we go ahead with the meeting. I know, I know, alarm bells are ringing for you as well, aren’t they? But we so wanted a second dog and knowing it was one that the kids would dote on made temptation that much more difficult to resist. Yes, we were stupid and should have called a halt right there and then. We didn’t.

We met Bill at the designated spot with Sausage. Unbelievably, except for one little snap when the husky attempted to approach Sausage head-on, both dogs appeared to get on well, basically ignoring each other except for a little bottom sniff every now and then. We asked about the dog’s background again.

You say the owner bought him in a pet shop but that he came from the Ukraine? How can we check this?

Well, there are no husky breeders in Singapore.

Yes there are. J handed over printings from the Singapore classifieds.

Bill looked genuinely embarrassed.

Did you see the dog’s papers with your own eyes, we asked. We don’t doubt your story but how well did you know the owner? Could he be lying to you about the dog’s background?

Next week, we find out how easily facts morph into other things.

Here is a cautionary tale about animals and Asia. Because of what happened to our family, I’m setting down our experiences in the hope that someone else may benefit from them.

Almost four years ago, settled in our new home, we decided to get a dog (something my mother-in-law considers essential to any family). My number one choice, the standard English Bull Terrier, was off the list because Malaysia has breed-specific legislation regarding importation of breeds. In Malaysia, it is illegal to import Akitas, American Bulldogs, Fila Brasileiros, Japanese Tosas, Neapolitan Mastiffs and any Pit Bull or Pit Bull mix (including both the English and American Staffordshire Bull Terrier). Furthermore, Rottweillers, Dobermans, German Shepherds, Bull Mastiffs, Bull Terriers and Perro de Presa Canarios are restricted and are not allowed to be sold in pet shops…although they are.

So if we couldn’t legally get our hands on a Bull Terrier, what was left? We decided on a Miniature Bull Terrier that we got from a “reputable” breeder. This means that the dog (Sausage) came with full papers and MKA (Malaysian Kennel Association) registration.

PROBLEM #1: Sausage’s papers only came a few months after we bought her, which was a surprise. In fact, in Malaysia, it is unusual for a breeder to show you a dog’s lineage upon request; we’ve been point-blank refused, being told we’d get a look at it after we bought the dog. Since Sausage & Cookie, we have always walked away from such deals, but when the vast majority of local breeders take this tack, it makes for a lot of heavy-hearted decisions.

When Sausage’s papers finally arrived and I got a look at it, I was appalled. Only three generations back, Sausage had the same dog on both sides of her family. Not only that, her mother was the result of a brother-sister mating that was, in itself, the result of another probable sibling mating. The story was no different on her sire’s side.

From my reading I know that, in the Western world, reputable breeders often make very little money from their dogs. Litters are produced only when there is need and genetic diversity is prized. This is not the case in Malaysia (and, I warrant, the rest of Asia). At the vet’s office (and I’ve visited a few), I see notices for breeders with massive kennels, breeding a bewildering array of dogs, from Shih Tzu to German Shepherd. The same person who will sell you a Beagle will also be able to sell you a Chihuahua or a Doberman.

PROBLEM #2: The breeders in Malaysia/Singapore are only in it for the money and protecting the bottom line means incestuous mating after incestuous mating, especially if both a sire and dam are already available within the same kennel. I have read that breeders say that there are few negative genetic ramifications from this for dogs. I call bullshit on this and so does Jemima Harrison, the courageous woman behind the documentary Pedigree Dogs Exposed.

But, what can I say, until I got that stab of unease from reading Sausage’s lineage, I didn’t know any better.

Do you know what, though? It didn’t stop us from getting a second mini bully. Her name was Cookie. The promised papers never arrived but, by then, it was too late because we’d already bought her and breeders have a no-refund policy in these parts.

It’s very difficult for me to talk about Cookie. She was a lovely black, white and tan mini with the speed of a whippet. She was able to catch birds on the wing (I’ve seen her take out two birds in our front garden) and survived a snap-and-tumble battle with an adult cobra without a scratch. She was also extremely loving and, like every other bull terrier I have known, an absolute clown.

Unfortunately, at the age of 18 months, something in her snapped and she started picking fights with Sausage. We were forced to separate the house into zones while attempting remedial work. No dice. When The Wast got caught in the middle of one such fight, we knew we had to make the hard decision.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, our opposite neighbour snapped up Cookie, who she’d been eyeing appreciatively and asking questions about whenever we met. This meant that Cookie would now have a stable home but I would be forced to see her every day.

I’m part of the Raw 4 Bullies Yahoo group, a great and very supportive band of raw feeders and bully lovers, and they told me that it wasn’t so bad because I would be able to visit Cookie whenever I wanted. I didn’t say anything to the group at the time, but not in this case. While friendly, our neighbours keep to themselves and, when I paid two visits (the first time, with some of Cookie’s things; the second, with a gift of heartworm medication for all her dogs), it was made very clear that I was never to have any contact with the dog again. So I see Cookie every day, but I’m not allowed to ever visit or pet her.

It’s difficult to know now exactly what went wrong with the Sausage-Cookie dynamic, one that had started with such promise. Could it be as simple as Cookie not liking Sausage? It’s not the female-female thing because Cookie now spends most of her time with four other female dogs (a Jack Russell, a Poodle, a Mini Schnauzer and a Shih Tzu) and seems to get on well with all of them.

PROBLEM #3: A lot of MKA breeders (as opposed to backyard breeders) also own pet shops, which they use to sell their own litters and litters of other breeders. Despite the problem with Sausage (and yes, you may call me stupid), I went to such a breeder for our second bully, thinking that it would be a cut above the regular pet shops that are not owned by pedigree breeders. The fact that the promised papers didn’t arrive after Cookie makes me wonder whether such breeder/pet-shop owners also buy puppies from mills. He said not but, as you’ll realise as you read through my tale of woe, we’re used to being lied to. A lot.

In any case, the experience with Cookie taught us that even so-called reputable breeders could not be trusted.

At this point in the story, we’re back down to one dog, Sausage, and a son with five stitches in his arm (from Cookie, incidentally, but we don’t blame her for it. It was in the heat of the moment. And no, The Wast wasn’t silly enough to step into a fight. He was lifting Cookie into his arms when the fight broke out around him). We wanted to be responsible owners, so we contacted a trainer with 20+ years experience handling and training dogs. Let’s call him Bill. If she was going to remain with us, we wanted to make sure Sausage, who was aggressive with people, was toned down a bit.

Okay, a digression. Sausage has not had very good experiences with people. When we got her spayed, the vet’s office botched it up and infection set in. We had to re-admit her and she underwent an even worse operation to clean out the infected tissue. She’s hated vets ever since. When we kennelled her and Cookie for our trip to Poland, the kennel owners kept both dogs in filthy conditions and they both came back to us — even gregarious, human-loving Cookie — half-starved and fearful. When we kept Sausage in the yard while we were out grocery shopping, the security guards would ride to and fro in front of our front gate and taunt her with their walkie-talkies, then laugh at her when she barked at them.

To all this, we (a) found a new vet (actually, two new vets, one for minor and one for major work), (b) have never gone on holiday since, and (c) keep Sausage inside the house at all times unless she’s outside under our supervision.

But I hope you can see how experience with humans has taken its toll on our beloved Sausage. We wanted that reversed, so we paid for Bill the Trainer to take Sausage for an intensive six-week in-house “reconditioning”. She came back to us much better but I have to say that I believe we’ve built on that since. By enforcing absolutely consistent rules and behaviour from all of us, including the kids, Sausage has relaxed and proven herself to be unswervingly loyal and affectionate to all members of the family, although she does show preference for being with me. She’s still not used to strangers in the house and will bark at them, but it’s not with the same I-will-kill-you ferocity that she had before. She’s coming along just fine and, we all believe, will get better as time goes on.

A year passes.

Next week, I admit that we break down again and try for a second dog.