This shaggy dog story has a happy ending

Poop. I thought I saw the last of it a decade ago, somebody else's that is, not my own. But here I was, bending over with my thin plastic bag scooping up the fecal matter. Thankfully, when you're related to the individual, it somehow lessens the trauma - babies, elderly parents, spouses with a bad case of food poisoning and of course, the family dog.

Two years ago I wrote about house-sitting a bunch of cats and dogs and how the experience confirmed my pro-choice pet-free lifestyle. But with a change in climate, separated siblings and the need for exercise, a dog seemed like a good choice. Besides, I had an unused case of fur-attracting lint brushes in the backroom closet.

Weeks went by when I would check out dog shows, breeders and ads on the online shopping forum Taobao. I finally found myself at a pet store with a few dozen puppies of various breeds squeezed into tiny individual cages.

She wasn't what I was looking for, I wanted a nice, compact Welsh corgi, but her bright personality and bear-like fluff had me at "woof". I conveniently set aside the fact that size-wise, she would grow to a third of my height and half of my weight.

I brought home the chow chow puppy to the delight of my daughter, surprise of my husband and annoyance of the ayi. Baozi (Chinese for "stuffed bun") as she was named, the dog, not the ayi - is as cute as she is furry.

But enough of the good stuff, the reality is the floors of our home are now papered over like a mish-mash collection of stamps. There's an obstacle course of bones, water bowls, chew toys and unwelcome "treasures" that dot the landscape. Good dog food, the kind that won't give your pet renal failure, costs more than steak and like Louis Vuitton - counterfeit brands proliferate in the local market. And the dog has been to the veterinarian more times in the last two weeks than my husband has seen a stethoscope in three years.

Going to the veterinarian turned out to be good insurance as puppies here are mostly "farmed" at puppy mills in Jiangsu province. Hounds bought from pet stores have earned the nickname "one week dogs" for their short life span after arriving at their new homes.

Indeed, the Welsh corgi I had originally looked at was weeks too young to be away from its mother. On the other end, reputable breeders in China only sell show quality dogs and the price tag is equal to a one-carat diamond ring. Shelters are really the best place to get a dog as they're healthy and are not usually inbred. That their heads only reach to the top of a soda bottle can is another bonus for city dwellers and their compact living spaces.

In 1949, China banned dog ownership because it was seen as a "symbol of decadence and a criminal extravagance at a time of food shortages". Their owners were labeled as bourgeois. The dawn of the economic reforms in the 80's slowly cracked opened the door and now dogs are not only seen as companions, but status symbols too.

A Tibetan mastiff was recently bought for $600,000 and its owner, a woman from Xi'an, accompanied the prize dog home in a 30-Mercedes motorcade. Its promotion to pet status though, hasn't quite kept Fido off the country's dinner table. Indeed, on a cold winter's night many a Mongolian barbecue restaurant will feature dog meat on the menu, giving the phrase "hot dog" fresh meaning.

So, after a week of sleepless nights, poop patrols, and mounting bills for vets and dog paraphernalia, the novelty of a puppy has certainly found its end. Even so, this is one furry Baozi who won't end up as dinner.