Proud mom Nihoha poses with her crazy puppies in front of my shower room. The puppies slept in there for a couple of weeks before moving into my kitchen. Vanessa Paolella photo

It was just after 9 a.m. when my friend Sarobidy and I finished watering our seedlings a couple months ago. Only on our walk back did she mention that a dog had given birth nearby.

Of course I wanted to see the puppies. Wouldn’t you?

First we heard their cries. Only after peering around the old dilapidated outhouse did the dog and her seven newborn puppies come into view.

The small thicket of weeds they were tucked into did little to shield them from the burning sun. The puppies were scattered around the ground crying incessantly, with dirt on their tongues and sharp burs stuck to their fur. Even mom was crying in distress.

So I did something a bit radical. I went home to retrieve water, food and a tarp.

People were bemused. During my return trip, one woman peered into my bowl and gasped when she saw the scrambled egg mixed in with rice and sweet potato.

You see, some people here view dogs only slightly better than rats. They’re dirty, have fleas and parasites, and are thought to carry disease. Certainly, some do.

I’ve also learned that many people are just plain terrified of dogs, even sweet little puppies.

There are people who keep dogs as pets. But pet ownership here – and animal care broadly – is very different from what we’re used to in the U.S.

Food is never prepared with the dog in mind. Rather, owners might offer whatever is leftover from meals. Generally, dogs are responsible for finding their own food, water and shelter.

After tying the pig’s legs together, two men picked it up by its ears and tail alone and set it in a tuktuk to be taken and sold in Ambalavao. Vanessa Paolella photo

Cats fare similarly, although people seem to like them more. They help scare away the rats and mice, making them useful.

Frankly, of all the cultural differences I’ve faced living in Madagascar, local attitudes toward dogs – and animals broadly – have been the most difficult for me to stomach.

I’ve seen people hit dogs for no good reason. I’ve seen people pick up full-grown pigs by their ears and tail alone, their screams eerily human-like. And recently, I learned that when pigs here are spayed, the procedure is done without any anesthetic or painkiller.

None of these things sit well with me. It hurts me to see sick, starving animals every day. But I can’t fault people here for feeding animals so little when they barely have enough for themselves.

Luckily, I have plenty to share.

When I returned that first afternoon, I found mom quietly cuddling with her puppies, some nursing in their sleep. Already, things were looking better.

To the side lay one puppy, dead. Sarobidy had correctly predicted the puppy’s fate after seeing her twitching on the ground earlier that morning.

Three times a day, sometimes more, I walked down the hill to visit the dog and her puppies. But after the weather turned cold and wet for several days, I moved them to the shower room behind my house. The four girls and two boys survived.

I know with certainty that most, if not all, would have died had I not started feeding their mom. Another dog here who gave birth a week later lost all five of her puppies because she was starving and couldn’t produce enough milk.

I don’t say this to pat myself on the back. Rather, knowing this has made me feel even more responsible for their future welfare.

Raising these puppies has been an experience unlike any other for me, one I’ll cherish for the rest of my life. It’s also been the hardest, most stressful thing I’ve dealt with since coming to Madagascar.

As the puppies grew, caring for them became far more intense. Before, I was cooking three meals a day for their sweetheart of a mother, and the little puppies never wandered far. Now I cook for seven dogs and play a frustrating game of whack-a-mole with the now 9-week-old puppies as I try, and often fail, to keep them from squeezing through the holes in my backyard fence.

One cold day, the puppies discovered the dirty clothes basin in my kitchen and decided to make it their new bed. Outnumbered and outmatched, I let the puppies move into my house. Now, they’re too big to fit in the bin comfortably, although they continue to try. Vanessa Paolella photo

I’m not worried about them wandering off; they’re much smarter than that. I’m even starting to come to terms with the dead animals, internal organs and dirty diapers I regularly pry from their little scavenging mouths when I do let them roam. Rather, I’m terrified someone will decide to swipe my puppies.

Originally, I had planned to try and find families in my area to care for them. But while dozens of people were interested in the two boys, no one wanted the girls, who would almost certainly become pregnant as adults.

Looking for alternative options, I came across a nonprofit animal shelter in the capital, Animal Voice Madagascar. They agreed to take my sweet girls in and help find them good homes.

But as the puppies grew, I realized that while I could easily find people to take the two boys here, I’d never be satisfied with the level of care they would get. I don’t like how dogs are treated here, and there simply isn’t enough food.

By the time you read this, I’m hoping the puppies will have already made it to the shelter. I’m planning to take five of them to the big city near me on Friday and ship them to the capital in a wooden crate designed by my dad in the U.S. and built by me.

Meet Chrissy, my new best friend. Vanessa Paolella photo

I’ll spare you the details, but you should know it took a heck of a lot of stress, money and planning to do this. Several miracles, too.

It may not be my smartest decision, but I decided to keep one of the females.

How could I not? Did you see the photos?

Her name is Christina “Chrissy” Paolella, and she’s perfect. Already, I have big plans for our future adventures.

Chrissy will almost certainly come home with me next year. I expect it’ll cost quite a bit, and owning a dog will certainly make life more complicated. But I know I won’t regret it.

I’ll continue taking care of the mom, too, although I expect she’ll stay here when I leave. She’s gotten used to a full belly, and I like seeing her napping peacefully in my backyard.

I’m planning to pay the veterinarian in Ambalavao to come give her birth control shots four times a year to prevent future pregnancies. It is possible to spay dogs in Madagascar, but the procedure is only available in major cities, and I don’t even want to think about trying to bring her to one.

Taking care of dogs is not what I came to Madagascar to do, and I don’t plan to raise puppies again.

But like everything I do here, it’s been a learning experience for me and my neighbors alike. If I can encourage folks to treat dogs and other animals a bit more

kindly, I’m convinced we’ll all be better off for it.

A reader asked:

You’re surrounded by people who by and large struggle daily just to survive, children who are too poor to receive education and an environment where animals are neglected at best and abused at worst. Not to mention a severe shortage of your favorite food: cheese. First: Thank you for using your talents and energy to help make this world a better place for others. Amazing! Second: How do you handle it all? How do you stay positive? — Your friends in Greene

It’s really easy to focus on the negative aspects of life in Madagascar. I’m certainly guilty of writing more about the bad than the good in these columns. But there are so many good things about the life people have here. Families are large and tight-knit. Everyone knows everyone. Fruit is plentiful and fresh. Everything is walkable. Life moves slow. I feel bad when I see children who don’t have enough to eat. But I also envy their freedom when I see them running around and playing with friends, no parents in sight. It helps, too, that despite living here, I’m rarely confronted by the true depth of poverty and hardship some families face. I see some of it, but certainly not all. It’s mostly when people directly ask me for food, money or other items that I find myself struggling; in these cases, I tend to stick to my personal rules and think about what I can do to help, if anything, beyond giving things away.

Have a question? Send it to van.paolella@gmail.com or by snail mail to the Sun Journal at 64 Lisbon St., Suite 201, Lewiston, ME 04240.

On a personal note:

At first, I thought my shameless plea for donations to a scholarship fund in last month’s column was a bust. But since then, donations from family, friends and readers have been coming in steadily. We still haven’t yet reached our goal of $5,000, but we’re getting there. As of now we have more than $2,000, enough to support 40 kids through five years of elementary school.

It’s easy to describe the impact of this program in numbers, but for me, the kids who stand to benefit from this program are very, very real. They’re the kids I see every day, kids who color in my house and still ask me to play with a cheap ball from Marden’s that kicked the bucket ages ago. For me and for them, thank you for supporting this program.

If you’d like to contribute to my community’s scholarship fund, Anjiro Initiative is still accepting donations. Donations can be made online to GoFundMe or by a check made payable to Anjiro Initiative. The nonprofit’s mailing address is: Anjiro Initiative, 4101 Dublin Boulevard, Suite F, Box 505, Dublin, CA 94568, USA. Please indicate that the donation is for Andrainjato.

Vanessa Paolella is a Peace Corps volunteer in Madagascar, as well as a former award-winning staff writer for the Sun Journal and a Bates College graduate. The views expressed in this column are hers alone and do not reflect the views of the U.S. government, the Peace Corps, or the Madagascar government.