On my way out this morning,

I saw an SPCA van parked in my estate, engine running still, so I reckon the SPCA staff must be somewhere near and returning soon.

I was curious and somewhat concerned on why SPCA was called, so I waited for him to return. After a few minutes, I saw a family (father and 3 boys) walking with the SPCA staff and a local dog in tow. Sigh....didn't look good.

I walked up to them to ask what was the matter.

The family was surrendering their dog. Their companion for 1 year.

I asked further if they has tried to rehome him, put him up for adoption. The father said they did and no one wanted cos he had bitten his sons. More than once. He also had a host of other skin and health issues that had cost the family huge bills.

When I first saw the dog, he looked wary. His eyes darting around as his humans pulled him nearer and nearer to the blue van. Just in front of the van, he held his weight to the ground, refusing to budge, before he had no choice, succumbing to greater human strength and up into the van he went. The back half of his body was shaven down, showing a spread of rashes arising from inappropriate care or unsuitable diet.

The boys had picked him up when he was a pup. Cute he must have been then. But as he grew, I'm sure without any appropriate training at all, he knew not how to interact with his human pack other than what is instinctively built into him. He plays with his teeth.

One of the sons has a long scar next to his right eye where the dog had bitten him.

The father made the decision to call SPCA to surrender the dog as they realised they do not have the ability to co-exist. They should not have picked him up as a pup 1 year ago. He may or may not have a better life but I guess nothing would have felt quite like the experience of your human pack giving you up to the pound. Knowing you will be put to sleep.

I asked the father if they understand that their dog will be destroyed. He knew. To him, he had no choice. To me, I am not much better. I could naively think that I was placed in his path to save him. But I knew that was a prideful thought. I am not the answer to all problems. And I will run myself dry if I undertake to. I cannot help him then as we have dogs on our hand, in shelters, who are still not rehomed.

As the van door was shut, the boys pushed their faces near the glass pane to see their dog for the last time. Their faces were solemn and I knew they were sorry. I was very sorry too. And for a dog I have never met before, someone I had no relationship with, I find myself holding back tears as I turned and walked away from that van.

The least comfort I could get is knowing this dog will lose his life in a fast and painless way.

That is the very least we can do for those we cannot accommodate on our earth.

I guess, for not being the answer to this problem today, I at least bring upon the question of what action each of us should take when we next encounter a stray pup on the streets.

It has been a question on my mind - more so for the litters born at the farms. What do we do to these pups born of mothers we cannot reach, cannot catch to be sterilised?

Do we bring them to SPCA to be humanely euthanised? Or do we leave them to nature to survive or die as the days pass by?

Many of them do not survive. Car accidents. Drowning. Sickness. Infections. Starvation. Some simply disappear. Where? I do not know.

Some of them die. Later. Sometimes slower. Just not under our hands.

So what is the right choice to take?