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Golden Surprise!

Sunny is a golden retriever who lives at Sunrise Children’s Village in Phnom Penh. Sunny has always struck me as a pretty happy dog. Retrievers are known for being great family dogs who love kids. As soon as I met Sunny I had a fantasy of delivering a golden retriever puppy, with a fetching red ribbon tied around its neck, to my kids at CCT. I must have mused on this out loud to Geraldine, because, before the fantasy had a chance to die a natural death, amid images of kids poking sticks and attempting pony-style rides, I was being offered a golden retriever puppy.

Next thing I knew, I was carrying a torpid three-month-old retriever pup through the boiling, crowded streets of Phnom Penh, headed for Sinet’s place. My feelings of trepidation were reinforced by the fact that the dog came with the name Charlie. ‘Cha’ means fried in Khmer, so the whole name implied something unspeakable.

Of course, I bonded with Charlie in the few days I spent with him at Sinet's house, and my fears for his future wellbeing at CCT intensified. He followed me around the house, fell in love with the cats, enjoyed joining me on outings, learnt to sit, drop, and shake hands. He endeared himself to everyone with his uncoordinated frolicking gait. He left a turd as big as a cowpat on Sinet’s brown bathroom rug, which meant Sinet, falling for the camouflage, sank her foot ankle-deep in it on her way to the bathroom. The memory of her screams will forever cause me to cry laughing.

Handing Charlie over to CCT's 23 youngest kids, some of whom had a spotted history with animals, seemed a worse idea than ever. Nevertheless, I persevered. The idea was to surprise the kids with the puppy as a reward for their astounding academic achievements.

Charlie spent the taxi ride up to Battambang chomping on a rawhide dog-chew and sleeping on a little towel beside me. I apologised to him for whatever he was about to suffer, explaining that these were special kids who deserved a chance. When we got into Battambang, I decorated him with a large red bow, muttered my last ‘sorry’ and drove him up to CCT.

The first kids to spot a puppy tied up with red ribbon stared hard, jumped up and down for a moment, then dashed back to tell all the other kids. The excitement was palpable. Within a minute every kid was gathered around us on the couch, wide-eyed. The puppy was almost completely unfazed, which I thought was a good sign. But I didn’t let the kids meet him properly until they fully understood the weight of the responsibility of caring for a dog. The word ‘dog’ in Khmer is quite often followed by the word ‘meat’. To call someone a dog is considered the most offensive of insults, and, at best, their only use is to serve as guards. Dogs do it tough in Cambodia.

I made the kids understand that this dog was special. He was part of the family and they were to treat him accordingly. They promised they’d follow all of my directions and would take very special care of their new friend.

Next, we workshopped a name, and the names flowed. Roua suggested Ben 10, Tou thought of Lee Yong-Jae, a Korean filmstar, and Hing wanted Rambo. We put it to the vote and I was relieved when Rambo won. Rambo imbued the dog with a gravitas that would surely command respect.

I said a reluctant goodbye to the kids and Rambo that night and had to get the kids to hold him so he wouldn’t follow me out the gate. I worried. All night.

The next morning I arrived at CCT early and found the gate wasn’t shut. My heart missed a beat. It’s almost a given that any new dog will wander off through an open gate, and one that’s been left with 23 children will probably be travelling at a rate of knots. I jumped out of the truck and called up and down the street for Rambo.

Finally he appeared, not timidly from the street, but bounding happily out of CCT’s doors, ears flopping with every clumsy leap. He welcomed me with a big kiss. I was amazed. This was all the evidence I needed that Rambo had no interest in leaving the CCT compound. The kids had listened to me. They’d been practicing the tricks I had taught him and were having a great time getting him to sit, drop and shake hands for a treat.

Over the next few weeks, Rambo became a valuable member of CCT. His love of water during this rainy season has meant that he’s more often mud-coloured than golden. He seems to be a Golden Retriever with the heart and soul of a much tougher, more acclimatised dog. The kids really aren’t supposed to play wrestling games with him but two of the cheeky, younger boys at CCT, brothers Heang and Hai, will often form a pack with Rambo making a big puppy scrum that knocks anyone or anything within range, off their feet. Then they all freeze, children and dog alike, with their heads down and bums in the air looking keenly at each other. For a moment nothing happens, each waiting for the other to break first, then, suddenly, they all pounce! The three of them hide behind couches and ambush any unexpected victim who happens to be passing by.

But with the girls he’s a big, sweet, cuddly teddy bear. Shy little Somnung has become a lot more confident since Rambo turned up.

CCT’s security guard, Chourn, has to stay on his toes with Rambo around. Rambo is always stealing his visitor forms, or his pen, or his hat. Chourn tries to be firm and puts on his angry voice but he just ends up laughing.

It’s now nearly six months down the track and it’s confirmed: Rambo is a huge success! He loves everyone, kids, staff and visitors to bits! He has a special talent for making everyone think that they’re his favourite. He’s helped bring some of the more withdrawn kids out of their shells and is teaching all the kids valuable life lessons about responsibility, about loyalty and mutuality, about caring for and nurturing others and about the meaning of friendship.