On the second night of the jungle trek we were lucky enough to have the company of a rather hairless mangy, old mongrel whom we named Manky. His only companion in the village of bamboo huts was a white cat with a pronounced ‘Z’ kinked in his tale. If the two crossed paths there would almost certainly be a scrap.
Manky enjoyed the attention we gave him by the fire in the evening, but was clearly a dog with very little self-confidence and his paranoia often got the better of him.
It transpires that Manky used to belong to the Long Neck Tribe who abandoned him when they left to set up camp nearer a main road (for business reasons) and when we arrived at the tribe’s village we discovered that Manky had been replaced by a number of cute, soft, cuddly puppies- poor old Manky.
Street dogs the world across have a hard time of it- no one to feed them, groom them, no drop in clinics, always getting your ear chewed by the bigger dogs from round the corner. They end up looking, like Manky, pretty manky….and when you don’t look good the chances are that you don’t feel very good either.
Some thoughtful person has taken it upon themselves to travel around the country providing the street dogs with funky threads to spruce up their appearance and to cover their pooch nudity- a stripy tank top here, a designer jacket there.
These dogs can roam the streets in style and stay warm at night.
