Fiji is an island paradise, but it does have a problem with stray dogs. Photo / NZME
Fiji is an island paradise, but it does have a problem with stray dogs. Photo / NZME
When I arrived home from my most recent trip to Fiji, I tried to convince our Madam Dog how lucky she is. One of the things I really noticed on this visit was the number of stray dogs.
The visible ones mostly seem to inhabit the roadsides, and my guessis that’s where they find edible debris jettisoned by irresponsible litterers in passing cars.
No, I assured Madam Dog, these were not dogs with the usual accoutrements she takes for granted: a water bowl, a food bowl (meals included), a collar, a lead, walks, anti-flea and anti-worm treatment, a soft day bed and an even softer night bed.
What amazed me on a leisurely three-and-a-half-hour drive from Nadi to Suva was that they seemed to know the road rules - or they at least appeared to know how to keep themselves out of trouble.
They would generally keep to the grass verges, and seemed to know about look left, look right, look left again (then amble across at a leisurely pace).
My return drive two days later confirmed that my first impressions had been incorrect. I spotted two canine corpses on the grassy verge.
Wyn Drabble. Photo / Warren Buckland
Most of the animals appeared to be brown in colour and, as you can imagine, they did not look at all well-nourished or fighting-fit. Those that weren’t moving along the side of the road were either sleeping, scratching and biting at irritations, sniffing other dogs’ butts or engaging in some roadside rumpy-pumpy.
It’s a mean and miserable existence, and the Fiji authorities are apparently trying to deal with it. A scheme at one stage rounded up hundreds of homeless hounds. Those that passed the personality test had the relevant bits surgically removed, courtesy of the local authorities, and were offered up to the general public for adoption.
Those that weren’t lucky enough to be chosen for adoption were released into their original environment, minus the bits that would enable them to add to the problem.
It’s not totally bleak for all of those dogs. Some have found their nirvana. The nights are not cold, so they can sleep anywhere in relative comfort. At breakfast time they can amble into the beachside café, sit next to some humans and do what dogs do so well; using only those imploring eyes and a tasteful cock of the head, they can speak volumes.
“I’m sitting here being good, and you are eating but not sharing.”
And in many cases, this ploy will succeed. They may be mangy and pest-ridden, but they are still man’s best friend, and if you give them a morsel – even the charred corner of your toast – they will reward you with at least the wag of a tail. And then, when they have exhausted your generosity, they will cruise to nearby tables, an endless supply of tail wags still available.
The greatest evidence that these are still dogs as most of us know them came when I saw two children throw a ball and chase it into the sea. An undernourished and possibly diseased brown dog snapped from its languor, found sudden new life, forgot its hardships and bounded into the sea to play.
“Oh boy! Marine ball games!”
To their credit, the children did not touch the dog. They just threw the ball and gave it a taste of the life all dogs deserve. And I’m sure it helped make up for the rest of the dog’s day.
It may not have been much, but I’m willing to accept that little incident as a portent. Stray dogs of Fiji, take heart. I know there’s a long way to go, but things are going to get better.
