Chris Bota and Moon
Moon loves to play tug-of-war with her green dinosaur, scarf down chicken souvlaki and curl up in bed next to her owner, Chris Bota.
It’s a new kind of life for the 2-year-old Jindo mix, recently rescued from a Korean dog farm by Humane Society International (HSI).
Moon (whose original rescue name was Moonshine) “loves getting petted,” says Bota, 26, who lives with his folks in Cherrydale. “And if I have food on my hands, she’ll give me a little lick. Every day she’s warming up.”
Each year, about 2 million dogs are farm-raised for slaughter to satisfy the South Korean demand for dog meat boiled into soups, and grilled, like chicken legs. However, tastes are changing, thanks to young, social-media-savvy Koreans who consider dogs as pets, not dinner. Consequently, dog farms are losing money, and farmers are looking for ways to get out. Since 2015, HSI has rescued about 2,000 dogs and provided retraining for cooperative farmers who are eager to retire or make a living another way.
In early May, HSI liberated Moon and 99 other such dogs, although the animals were stuck in transit for a time because of coronavirus travel restrictions. In late July, they were flown to Dulles Airport where Arlington-based Homeward Trails Animal Rescue claimed 17 of them; other rescue groups took the rest.
If the pandemic has a plus side, it’s people stuck at home with time on their hands and love to give. Rescue groups, dog shelters and breeders report record adoptions and sales.
Bota believes dogs are one of God’s blessings on Earth. He owns a dog-walking service, The Fido Group, and spends his off-time volunteering for rescue organizations like Homeward Trails.
But Covid delivered a financial wallop to his household. During quarantine, demand for dog-walking services nose-dived as many of Bota’s clients began working from home. His family’s Arlington restaurant, Metro 29 Diner on Lee Highway, is still building back its customer base after being closed for three months.
By the time Bota transferred Moon’s cage from the loading dock at Lufthansa Cargo terminal to the Homeward Trails transport van, he was feeling almost as depressed as the dog.
“Covid had taken a huge toll mentally,” says Bota, who was still mourning the 2018 death of his family’s schnauzer, Athena. “I care for other people’s pets all the time. Sometimes it got lonely when I would see these dogs at work, and then come back to an empty house with no dogs. I wanted to meet the right dog.”
When he first spotted Moon, the pup had been traveling for at least 24 hours from South Korea, through Qatar and into Dulles. While other rescues growled and snapped, Moon cowered, head-down, in a corner of a crate fouled by vomit and feces during the long journey.
“She was helpless and had a really hard life,” he says of the scruffy, moon-colored dog with black eyes like deep wells. “I was drawn to her.”
Moon had no papers, so he designated July 26—the day he adopted her and took her home—as her birthday.
At first, the going was rough. Moon crept slowly up the stairs to Bota’s house, then tried to escape for hours. When he picked her up, her body fell limp.
Over time, though, she spent less time trembling in the closet. She learned how to play with toys and recognize her name. Today, Bota only calls her Moonshine when she disobeys—good trouble from a dog once too scared to move.
“You have to be patient. That’s part of the bargain when you rescue an animal,” he says of the little creature who’s brought light to an otherwise dark time. “At the end of the day, who really rescued who—me or Moon?”