Three Evenings, One Roti Stall, and Namtan

I never planned to adopt a dog. I run a small shop in Ao Nang, I close late, and my life was already full. But every evening on my way home I pass a roti stall near the main road, and one rainy week there was a very thin brown dog sleeping on a flattened cardboard box beside it. The owner of the stall said she had been there for a month. People fed her scraps of banana roti, and she took them politely and never begged.

The first evening she followed me for about two hundred metres and then turned back. The second evening she followed me almost to my door. On the third evening she walked right behind my scooter the whole way, stopped at the gate of the shop and lay down on the tiles as if she had been invited. I remember that it was raining, and her ribs showed through the wet fur. I gave her water and a bowl of rice with chicken. She ate slowly, looked at me, and fell asleep with her paws crossed.

I called her Namtan, brown sugar, because of her colour and because she was so sweet. The next morning I took her to a vet in Krabi town. She was underweight, had fleas and a few ticks, and was not vaccinated, but the vet said she was young and basically healthy. We did the vaccines, the deworming and later the spay, all step by step and always on our vet's advice. It cost me less than I feared, and the change in her was almost immediate.

Now, six years on, Namtan is the manager of the shop. She greets customers, lies in the shade of the doorway, and has strong opinions about who may enter. Tourists take photos of her white chest and white socks, and sometimes they ask whether she is a breed. I say yes: the very best breed in Thailand.

I still pass the roti stall every evening. There is another thin dog there now. I am trying very hard to be sensible. Wish me luck, and please tell me if you know any good foster families in Krabi.