Wednesday, 22nd of June 2016
Today I feel the need to write about an important subject, one that hits close to my heart: the China Dog Meat Festival.
As I am writing this article, I can not but help the tears running through my cheeks or the redness of my eyes. Being a person that tries the impossible not to cry in public, the nature of this subject is one of the few that make me do so. I do not need to be watching a video or listening to someone talking about this topic, thinking that this particular practice happens every year is enough to bring me to tears and make my heart sink.
This festival happens every year in Yulin, China, being also known as Yulin Dog Meat Festival, where 10,000 to 15,000 dogs are estimated to be consumed. It is held during the Summer because, according to the Chinese traditional culture, dog meat helps the human body cop with the heat.
I am not here to judge the practice of eating dog meat, despite the fact that I do not agree with it and would never try it myself, but to raise awareness to the violence and torture methods used to maintain this act.
It is believed that using methods of torture and abuse helps the animal meat taste better and raises the health benefits of its consumption. Live burnings, skinning dogs alive, stabbing, beatings, hangings, boiling them alive and cutting their paws while they still breathe are a few of this brutal procedures selected to prepare the meat.
This is not a cultural difference problem, it is about being human and having a heart, understanding that these creatures don't have a voice and can't fight back. It is not natural, it is abuse.
I have grown in a family of dog lovers, so I soon became one as well.
When I was born, I was lucky enough to already have a "big brother", sure he had four paws, he was very hairy and instead of talking, he barked, but he was family.
My parents had acquired a Epganeul Breton, also known as a Brittany Spaniel, just a year before my birth and called him Fisco, since my father worked in the financial area at the time.
He soon became my guardian, my partner, my best friend. I loved him with all my heart and I know he loved me the same way back, despite of my efforts to annoy him by pulling his ears, putting my fingers in his mouth or covering him with red lipstick. He had the calmest nature, definetely being a peaceful soul and a fervorous loyalty to his family.
The day he needed to be put down was and it still is one of the most painful memories I have. He was sick for quite a while and during his last months he had lost the ability to move well and spent most of his time laying down. I knew we had to do it, he was in pain, but I still tried to avoid thinking about it. He had his own sofa, where he used to lay down in the living room, and I remember that, when there was nobody home, I used to sing to him, hoping that would help him fall asleep or maybe even take away the pain.
He died at 16 years old, while I was 15 and I will forever regret not holding him a little bit more before seeing him go.
The next year, our house had never been so silent, there was something missing, no one was the same. We still had a few items, like shampoo, the colar and some toys that would reminds us of him but it was too painful, at some point the sofa disappeared, there was this huge gap in our hearts.
Only after that horrible year we had good news, we were getting a new puppy. This time the lucky winner was a Jack Russell Terrier, who was soon named Xico.
It was strange, the experience was completely different from the first, I did not have an older brother anymore, now we had a baby in the mix, one that could spend the day sleeping for hours or running around stealing toys and socks.
His personality is different, he begs for attention and can't sleep without his family, he is more needy, just like a baby would be. He is also spoiled, no place is off limits, the sofa, the bed, the table, he is the king and everybody is there to serve his needs and cuddle him until he falls asleep in our arms.
Being extra small also makes him a target for dressing up, which I always found ridiculous, but now I see myself doing it even more than the rest of my family (Halloween equals a pumpkin outfit, while during Christmas he is our Santa).
I love him and having been separated from him twice, once when I moved to Germany and now while I remain in London, I can honestly say it is incredibly difficult. When I skype with my parents is mandatory for me to see him and call him, not only to remind him of my voice but to make sure that he remembers I am coming back to him.
This is why is so difficult for me to accept this torture and abusive practices, because I know how dogs are, I have lived with them all my life and each one has its own personality, its own likings, fears and predilects. They are innocent souls who just want to be loved, they do not deserve to be skinned and boiled alive, they at least deserve a more humane way to die.
My heart goes to Marc Ching, an American activist, who keeps putting his life in danger by travelling to countries where these methods are allowed to rescue dogs from this fate. The Animal Hope & Wellness Foundation, his project, is a wonderful organization that helps rehome dogs and they deserve our support.
REMEMBER: This is about being HUMAN, so please help ending this cycle of cruelty.
From a girl standing for those who can't speak,
Mariana Fidalgo
