It should have been any other day.

Like clockwork Pogo woke me up at around 9:30 wanting to go out for his morning toilet. I’d been training him to eliminate outside over the past two months I’d had him and things were starting to pay off. He hadn’t had an ‘accident’ inside for about a fortnight now.

Half asleep I pulled him off my face (Pogo’s idea of waking me up was a bombardment of licks to my face and gentle ear nibbling till I got up), whacked on some jeans, grabbed some dog treats and leashed him up.

Yeah, it should have been any other day.

Instead, it turned out to be one of the most harrowing experiences of my life.

No sooner had we got to the front gate then out of the corner of my eye I saw a giant black dog run up to us from behind. The dog appeared to come from within the apartment complex itself.

Instinctively, I tugged Pogo’s leash up and frantically tried to grab him but the doberman got to him first and slammed him to the ground.

There was no struggle, no sound.

Panic stricken the reality of what was occuring set in. I flew into a rage and despite being in sandals gave the dog everything I had.

I kicked, I screamed and I kicked some more. I kicked until my slippers tore off my feet and at one point I even tried to grab the dog away with my bare hands.

Nothing I did seemed to bother the small horse sized dog as it mauled away at my defenceless puppy.

As if sensing I wasn’t happy with what was going on, the doberman then picked up Pogo in his mouth and ran about twenty metres down the road.

I began to give up chase and that’s when I heard Pogo’s first and final yelp. I then witnessed very moment Pogo died and it’s something I won’t ever forget.

The yelp pierced the foggy morning air and I saw his small red tounge roll out of his jaw and onto the cold road. His body now just a chewy plaything for the triumphant attacker.

I broke down onto my knees. I couldn’t believe what had happened and I had no idea what to do.

As if wanting some kind of reward, or wanting me to bring Pogo back to life just so he could kill him again, the doberman had come up to me to see what I was upset about.

It should have been any other day. But it wasn’t. My puppy lay dead on the road and I was a mess.

I wiped the blood from my hands and staggered back inside to call my boss. I left Pogo on the side of the road.

My boss sent her husband and sister down. Meanwhile I went back outside on my boss’ advice to double check Pogo was actually dead.

He was.

I thought about picking him up to take inside but the doberman came back and dragged him off into a nearby field. I again gave up chase and this time the doberman dropped Pogo and ran off.

The game wasn’t nearly half as fun with a dead puppy.

As I approached the field I saw one of Pogo’s eyes bulging out under the pressure of the doberman’s jaw and it became too much. I didn’t have the heart to get any closer.

Instead I went back inside and collapsed onto my bed. I’m not afraid to admit the tears ran freely and I couldn’t stop sobbing. I had nobody around I knew and had nothing to do except wait for my bosses husband and sister to show up.

About ten minutes passed and when I’d mustered up enough courage to go and face whatever awaited me in the field, I grabbed a plastic bag to carry Pogo back in and went outside.

As I got to the field, I did my best to avoid making direct eye contact. Not knowing how bad the damage was, I figured I’d pull him up by the leash and drop him into the basket.

As I gently lifted his lifeless body off the ground, once again the doberman came out of nowhere, snatched him up and ran off deeper into the field.

A mixture of fury and helplessness washed over me and ultimately I realised it was futile giving up chase. By now the dog was about five hundred meteres into the paddock and then dissappeared behind some bushes.

I went back inside and once again collapsed on my bed. This was way too much for me to process and emotionally I was beyond overload.

That’s how my boss’ sister and husband found me.

I told them what had happened as calmly as I could and then they tried to see if anyone was home. Both were dog owners and I felt shared my loss.

We went outside and to my amazement the doberman was now leashed in my neighbours front yard.

Not only that but one of my neighbours had just come home on scooter and owning a cat and being familiar with my dog, was also now suitably furious.

She’d met Pogo the first night I’d brought him home just two months ago.

As the four of us stood outside my neighbours house trying to get someone to answer the door, my boss called and told me the police were on their way.

It was then that a scooter slowly approached. It was an old man, my neighbour.

My boss’ husband asked if it was his dog and got the affirmative reply. The brief conversation that followed was in Chinese so I didn’t understand but I could see from his body language that he didn’t give a shit.

That much was clear.

In the space of about two minutes he shook his head and shrugged his shoulders, before calmly walking past his gate and dissappearing into the paddock behind his house to continue his farmwork.

When the police arrived a short time later they had to call him from his field. That’s how little he cared about what had happened.

After jotting down some of what my neighbour was saying into his notebook, the police officer started to ask about the dog.

I was still barefoot at this point and I realised I’d have to go looking for what was left of Pogo.

With my heart unable to sink any lower I trudged back inside to put some shoes on and then headed back outside.

This was probably one of the longest walks in my life. As I put one foot infront of the other I scoured the paddock hoping desperately to catch a glimpse of Pogo’s red leash before I laid eyes on what was left of him.

I love my animals and this had already pushed me beyond my mental boundaries, well and truly beyond.

With the police in tow it wasn’t until I got to the end of the paddock and peered down past the slope behind it that I caught a glimpse of Pogo’s leash.

I refused to go any further.

Instead the police officer pressed on and began taking the photographs he needed for evidence.

I couldn’t take it and walked back through the paddock and onto the road to wait.

When the policeman was done he picked up Pogo and brought him back onto the road. Handing me what was left of my puppy in a plastic bag I had no idea what to do with it.

I felt sick.

The bag was heavy enough that I knew most of him must have been there but there was no way I was looking inside. Instead I just stood there with tears starting to stream down my face, holding a yellow plastic bag with my dead dog inside in the middle of the road.

As the policeman went on talking to my boss’ sister and husband, those were some of the longest minutes of my life. I literally just stood there, holding Pogo.

My boss’ sister pointed out at some point that my apartment complex had security cameras set up. And sure enough they captured some of what happened;



The woman in the video was one of my neighbours. She came outside when she heard my screaming and yelling and saw most of what happened.

Thankfully she was willing to be a witness.

What I can’t help but mull over in my mind are those last moments. Puppies as I came to learn are hopelessly dependant on you, and always seem to be seeking your approval.

In our walks Pogo would always glance back up at my every so often as if to check we were both ok going in this direction. In those last few moments of his life I can’t even begin to imagine what went through his mind.

One minute he was out walking with me and the next being ravaged while I stood there kicking away.

…but it wasn’t enough.

That’s what really gets me, the dependentness of a puppy combined with my own helplessness. It was literally like seeing a baby die.

After a trip to the police station from what I understand, at the insistance of my boss, we’re going to press ahead with court action. It won’t bring Pogo back but it’s something.

Meanwhile when I asked if the attacking dog was going to be put down I was told that in Taiwan it doesn’t matter if a dog attacks another dog, only if it goes after a human.

When I mentioned my cut finger and toe, they were photographed but apparently not enough.

For all the convenience of the Taipei’s MRT, the technological innovation in Taiwan, appearance that you’re living in a first world country and relative high standard of living, it’s moments like this that slam you headfirst back into the reality that ultimately you’re living a relatively lawless day to day existence.

After filing the police report and feeling absolutely numb, we then went to the vet to dispose of Pogo.

The vet charged me $1500 TWD (~$50 AUD) for this service.

Thus far there hasn’t been a word from my neighbour or his family. Not one sorry or even the slightest acknowledgement of guilt. Anyone would think nothing had ever happened.

Meanwhile I wait for the gears of justice to slowly grind away. I don’t have much idea of what will happen or what the outcome will be so for now I guess I’ll just have to wait and see.

For me whatever happens happens and none of it will bring Pogo back.

At the time I seriously contemplated leaving Taiwan. Watching my puppy die infront of me was a whisker away from toppling me over the edge. Not that it couldn’t happen in Australia, but just that I know it’d have been much more of a bigger deal – and there’d be no question about putting the dog down.

Each day I see the dog now and I wonder what happens if someone has a small child in one of these apartments. Thus far I haven’t seen any.

Athough the pain of losing Pogo is still painfully raw I have made up my mind to try again with another dog at some point in the future. But, not for a while just yet.

Not until seeing someone else walking their pug doesn’t make my eyes well up with tears.

Taiwan’s definitely given me some highs over the past year and a bit but I’ve also had some pretty devastating lows. All part of the tapestry of life of course but still a shock to the system each and every time, often amplified just due to the sheer alienness of it all.

It wasn’t easy writing about this but as I share the good I’ve taken it upon myself to also share the bad. Life isn’t all pretty girls, good food and things to see in Taiwan. Sometimes it’s painful, and like anywhere else things happen that change you.

Here’s how I’ll always remember Pogo;

Ecstatically happy to see me every day after work and ready for his evening walk.

Rest in peace Pogo, I only got to know you for a little while but I miss you so much.


Update 8th May, 2011: You can now read about the conclusion to this incident in ‘The conclusion to my Pug mauled to death in Taiwan‘.



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