Lulu’s Letter

Two Years On

I often like to imagine what my dogs would say if they could write their own stories. This one, I think, belongs to Lulu. Two years ago, she left Harbin and flew to London to begin her new life with us. Looking back on all that has happened since, here’s her letter — in her own “voice” — to her fellow Harbin Slaughterhouse Survivors.

Dear Fellow Harbin Slaughterhouse Survivors,

It has been two years since I left Harbin and boarded that long flight from Beijing to London — my journey to a new life.

The flight was delayed for a whole day, so by the time I finally arrived, it was late at night on the 22nd August. My new mum was waiting for me under the street lamps, and let’s say she looked a little surprised. I must have looked smaller — and rounder — than she expected. Beside her stood a black dog, a little taller than me. His name was George, and he whispered everything would be OK (though I wasn’t quite sure what “OK” meant back then). There was also a kind gentleman in a hat with the biggest smile. That was Andrew, and I soon learned he had a camera always ready for me.

It didn’t take me long to realise that my new name was Lulu. Apparently, I had to start responding to it quickly! Everyone seemed delighted to meet me, but instead of calling me Lulu, they called me all sorts of things — chicken nugget, dumpling, footstool, potato, brick, cuboid, popcorn kernel. Did I forget any?

I didn’t know what cuddles were, and whenever someone scooped me up, I went stiff. But slowly, I learned that’s an act of love. Now I enjoy the kisses and cuddles.

Of course, those nicknames had consequences. Mum decided that 4.85kg was far too much for a toy poodle like me. (And the vet was appalled.) So onto a diet I went! Honestly, I had more to eat back in Harbin than in those early days in London. But over time, I shed a whole kilogram, and I admit I feel better for it. I can walk without panting and even leap onto my favourite chair — the one I’ve claimed as mine. I can run upstairs, but I still hesitate going down them – each step is as high as I am tall. And I am proud to say I am now under 3.5kg!

Later on, though, we learned that not all of my roundness was down to excess weight. A DNA test revealed I’m not just a poodle — I have some Bichon gene, too. That explains my stockier little body, shorter legs, and less “poodly” snout. In other words, my size and shape are just as much a part of my heritage as my diet.

At first, I was so hungry that I raided the bin for scraps whenever Mum left the house. Apparently, that was unacceptable because I was scolded every time I got caught. Eventually, I learned that the bin was off-limits.

I’ve lost quite a few more little teeth since then — rotten things that they were — but I can still crunch even the hardest treats. Food is food, and I’ll never turn it down.

I had to adjust to a few other things, too. Rugs, for instance. I thought they were for peeing on… until George showed me the proper London way: wait to go outside.

And then there’s my “party trick” — standing on my hind legs. Everyone says I look like I’m dancing, but really, I’m just reaching for the treats Mum tempts me with. Still, it never fails to make photographers laugh.

Through George, I’ve met many friends — mostly poodle mixes of all sizes. We all went to the beach together on my first New Year’s Day in the UK. I surprised everyone by running like the wind, and the humans were squealing with delight.

Mum also likes me fluffy, so I get groomed regularly. I’ve also had more photo shoots than I can count. She says they’re “for the memories.” And she seems to be in a hurry to make as many as possible. Since leaving China, I’ve already travelled to 17 other countries — France, Wales, Scotland, Netherlands, Belgium, Italy, Switzerland, Latvia, Lithuania, Poland, Bulgaria, Germany, Turkey, Czech Republic, Slovakia, Hungary, and Croatia. And the list is still growing.

And very recently, I swam for the first time in my life! We were in Croatia and Aunty Ju-li took me into the waters and my little legs started paddling even before I touched the waters. Mum was super proud.

This is me as a drowned rat.

Mum has told me something important: I wasn’t chosen by chance. She says her first dog, Darcy, had a lot to do with it. When she first saw a picture of me, she gasped — because my eyes were just like Darcy’s, deep and soulful.

From that moment, she felt Darcy was guiding her to me. I’ve learned so much about Darcy since — the dog who came before me and George, who taught Mum what it means to love, and who still shapes how she cares for me and George today. In a way, I feel as though Darcy chose me, too.

So yes, I am grateful. Grateful that I was given a second chance: a home, a family, a mum who loves me (though she could feed me a little more if you ask me — but I suppose that’s tough love). I hope you all get to feel the love humans can give. It’s incredible, really. They wrap us in warm coats in winter, put us in wetsuits in summer, and sometimes even crown us with silly things — sunglasses, wreaths, hats — just for photos.

But I’ve learned that this, too, is an expression of love.

I know I am one of the lucky ones. I got my Second Chance. And my hope, my prayer, is that one day soon, you will too.

With love,
Lulu 🐾

Today marks Lucy Skye, aka Lulu’s second Gotcha Day. For those who may not know, she was once used as a breeding dog before being discarded, rescued from a dog meat truck, and taken in by Harbin Slaughterhouse Survivors. She remained there for two years, waiting until fate aligned and I was ready to adopt. She arrived at our home exactly eighteen months to the day after Darcy passed — a moment that felt written in the stars.

Since then, she has been a bundle of love, slowly blossoming, finding her voice, and growing into her confidence — sometimes too much. I laugh whenever she lets out her funny bark that sounds more like a duck’s quack, or when her growl rumbles like she’s gargling. And beneath all that sweetness, there’s a streak of mischief too. Once, annoyed that George had been given a little more food than she had, she marched over and peed in his bowl. Who would believe this fluffy little bundle could be capable of such a cheeky, almost vindictive act?

Two years on, I am grateful and blessed to be her mum. Watching her transformation has been a joy — proof of dogs’ resilience and the love that grows when second chances are given.

P.S. Due to a very long delay, Lulu was originally arriving on the 20th August but finally touched down in Paris on the 21st. She finally arrived in London just past 1am on the 22nd – which would have been exactly 18 months since Darcy left us.