The days passed in some kind of lazy blur, and then it was Wednesday. Can you still celebrate a humpday when every day is Sunday? My brother and his gf had left a week earlier on one of the last few KLM flights, and I woke up groggy after another night staring at a screen. I rolled over to check the time on my phone, and noted an influx of messages on the various animal rescue Wechat groups. Nothing new there, people were often exchanging tips and posters of various dogs and cats looking for furever homes (see what I did there?). But then I opened one of the shared links and it hit me. I’d heard the rumours of people throwing pets out on the streets, some possibly left with a tiny bowl of food and a sign, and other sick individuals throwing them out of windows out of fear they could transmit the virus. But here it was in full-picture glory, dogs and cats laid on the pavement, blood trickling from their cracked heads. And then the next article...
'Villages Order Culling Of Domestic Pets to Control Virus'.
I felt sick, like the 11 floors beneath me had disintegrated and I was falling fast.
They can’t take my dogs.
Back on Wechat, several frantic pet owners were debating on what that meant for us in Beijing. And suddenly I wanted to go straight home. When Nick and Beth first travelled back, I was happy to stay in the 'Jing, enjoying a bit of time to myself, away from the rat race. But losing my dogs has always been a constant fear for me - from the one dog policy, to the no-dogs-over-35cm rule, to street 'clean ups' before any major political event. I was beside myself. Should I just leave China and take Mao and Alfie with me? Would we even be allowed to leave? What about Bao (the latest foster) and Wilbur (the rescue hamster)? And what would I do when I had to travel back to China?
Everyone was checking in regarding the virus - my school, the community and the letting agent requesting endless forms and temperature checks. But the virus was the least of my worries. The constant reports that the disease had come from an 'animal source' and a misconstrued quote by an infectious disease 'expert' had threatened my furry family. "Pets should be quarantined if they have been in contact with suspected patients infected with the novel coronavirus." I'll quarantine you, Dr Li Lanjuan.
I wanted to feel in control, so I started making plans: I checked documentation, rang the vets and insurance company, checked airline policy and prayed and prayed. The internet could not have chosen a worse day to load every webpage super slowly. Turns out Mao and Alfie's 2016 documentation had expired, and the few airlines that were still flying to and from Beijing didn't take pets. I felt trapped, now not only the threat of the virus was creeping in, but animal control too.
I felt helpless, defeated, and cried way more than I should have done. I rang friends and family back home who tried to put my mind at ease, and by the afternoon the World Health Organisation and the Chinese state network CGTN had started to try and quash the rumours. It wouldn't bring those poor fur babies back, but hopefully it would stop any more suffering a similar fate.
I hugged my furry babies tightly, shared WHO posts on my WeChat, and went to bed. The fact that people out there are willing to kill so quickly scared me more than the virus.
I thought Garfield said Mondays were supposed to suck?
As of Feb 5th:
1,388 unwatched YouTube videos on my 'to watch later' playlist.
500 unread emails.
7 unread paper books (+ 1 kindle).
4 avocados.
2 and a half cartons of soy milk.
3 dogs and a hamster.
1 tin of baked beans.
No more chocolates.
No more cake.
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