A dog's life in Joseon: Part 2

A photo of a dog in a busy street in Busan in July 1908 was part of the Dezso Bozoky exhibit held at Seoul History Museum in 2019. Photograph taken by Robert Neff

There is no doubt that for many Korean people in the 19th and early 20th centuries, life was difficult and people did what they could to survive. The idea of eating dogs may have been unthinkable for many of the self-described civilized Westerners, but it wasn’t unheard of. Explorers, especially at the poles, ate dogs. In 1912, Roald Amundsen, the Norwegian explorer, ate many of his dogs during his South Pole expedition and found it appealing, claiming “it is anything but a real hardship to eat dog flesh.”

In Korea's case, I think it wasn’t so much the dog meat that bothered Westerners, but the way in which the dog (and other animals) was killed. According to one source from the early 1890s:

“[In Korea], goats are drowned by pulling them back and forth in a narrow stream. This is said to take away much of the strong, or rank taste which the flesh retains if the animal is killed in the ordinary way.”

A Korean butcher shop in Seoul circa 1910 / Robert Neff Collection

Isabella Bird Bishop, an English travel-writer whose pen was truly mightier than the sword, vividly described one of many Korean butcher shops she encountered during her visits in the 1890s:

“The smells were fearful, the dirt abominable, and the quantity of wretched dogs and of pieces of bleeding meat blackening in the sun perfectly sickening. The aspect of meat, produced by the mode of killing it, has made foreigners entirely dependent on the Japanese butchers in Seoul and elsewhere. The Koreans cut the throat of the animal and insert a peg in the opening. Then the butcher takes a hatchet and beats the animal on the rump until it dies. The process takes about an hour, and the beast suffers agonies of terror and pain before it loses consciousness. Very little blood is lost during the operation; the beef is full of it, and its heavier weight in consequence is to the advantage of the vendor.”

In January 1897, The Independent, a newspaper published in Seoul, reported:

“The Governor of Seoul ordered the butchers of the city to change the method of killing beef and adopt the foreign style. But the butchers still hesitate in obeying the order. However, the Governor will do his best to persuade them to adopt the better method within a few months.”

Eventually there were changes made, but not for the dogs.

Bozoky had a great photographic eye, as seen in this photo of repairs being performed on South Gate (Namdaemun) in Seoul in July 1908 that was part of the Dezso Bozoky exhibit held at Seoul History Museum in 2019. Photograph taken by Robert Neff

In her book, “With Tommy Tompkins in Korea,” Lillias Underwood, a missionary, certainly tugged on her readers’ emotions when she described Korean puppies as being “the cunningest and most enticing little furry balls ever seen.” But then she added:

“And now I must divulge a sad fact. Most of the dogs are bred and kept only to be eaten. A certain season in the fall is the usual time set for slaughter, and then there is a tragedy in every neighbourhood, and an awful fate for thousands of poor dogs. They are dragged away by the dog butcher, screaming and resisting, with terror in their eyes, and — well, let us draw a veil.”

She may have drawn the veil but others didn’t.

In early August 1884, Ensign Foulk recorded, “The other morning I saw a man lasso and hang an unsuspecting dog in the street in a very expert manner.” In 1892, The Korean Repository (a magazine published in Seoul), informed its readers: “Dogs are killed by slipping a noose over the head and then twirling them till they are unconscious after which they are bled.” And, in 1894, a missionary recorded in her journal, “Just heard a poor dog howling which quickly ended forever. Some Korean will have a feast now.”

“Visit to the land of Morning Calm” by Mozes Csoma and Tatjana Kardos (2020) is a great book for those interested in photographs of Korea in the summer of 1908. Some are extremely candid. Robert Neff Collection

Perhaps the most vivid and unsettling account comes from 1908:

“Frequently one sees a [Korean] foraging for the evening meal. The method is simple, though unpleasant. He is armed with a short pole, to the end of which is attached a noose. This he throws over the head of the nearest dog, and then proceeds to screw the pole round till the noose tightens, and slowly throttles the dog, who is meanwhile prevented from getting to close quarters with its butcher by thrusts of the pole.”

Not all dogs were killed for food or medicine — many were killed out of fear and retribution. Rabies was a real concern, and newspapers and magazines published in Korea are sprinkled with accounts of people attacked by rabid dogs and cats — a member of the British Legation in Seoul died from a rabid cat’s bite. Rabid dogs even became tools for diplomatic intrigue. In 1901, the Russian minister to Korea suddenly went to Japan with two members of his staff for treatment, because they had been bitten by the minister’s “little pet dog which died of rabies.” Horace Allen, the American minister to Korea, expressed some disbelief in the story but also acknowledged — at least to his sons — “Dogs are very dangerous pets.”

Lillias Underwood also wrote about the incident:

“Many mad dogs run the streets biting men and animals; and many dogs not really so, are doubtless chased to madness by alarmed crowds and stoned to death. Even while these lines are written, four Europeans, and several Koreans, were bitten by rabid dogs during one week. Muzzles although used for cattle and horses are unknown for dogs, pounds and licenses unheard of, and the only check therefore to the dog nuisance is the slaughter I have referred to.”

Newspaper accounts, up until the early 1910s, reported local authorities going out and shooting stray dogs in an effort to curb the spread of rabies. The only way to protect dogs was to license them — but even this ran into opposition because some people believed it was another attempt by the government to raise money without raising taxes.

Dogs were also alleged to ruin men’s lives. Oftentimes, young boys would answer the call of nature in the street and a friendly dog would assist them in tidying up — no need for toilet paper. However, there are accounts of overzealous dogs emasculating their young masters with their sharp teeth.

Even in dreams, dogs could be dangerous to the superstitious. If you dream of pigs, you will become rich, dream of a pine tree and become a high government official, have visions of grain in your hand and enjoy good fortune, but if a dog bites you in your dream, you will lose all of your money.

Considering dog meat was the subject of so many Westerners’ accounts of Korea, it is surprising that the earliest picture I could find was taken by Dr. Dezso Bozoky — a physician aboard the Austro-Hungarian warship SMS Kaiser Franz Josef I when it visited Korea in 1908. Titled “dog slaughterhouse,” his graphic hand-colored photograph shows a full carcass of a half-skinned dog and lumps of meat being sold in Jemulpo (modern Incheon).

It probably doesn’t need to be said, but when Seoul History Museum held its exhibit of Bozoky’s photographs in 2019, the organizers chose not to include that one. I will also refrain from using it as I think it is just too graphic. Surprisingly, considering dogs were such a ubiquitous part of Korean society, there are very few images I could find with Korean canines and so I have had to resort to using images of foreigners and their dogs.

While many Americans were shocked by the method in which Korean dogs were slaughtered, the United States didn’t exactly have clean hands. As Lillias Underwood alluded to in her book, in the United States, unwanted puppies were sometimes tied up in a burlap bag and then tossed into the river to cruelly drown. However, in Korea, “puppies are rarely drowned or killed as they are too young to eat, and to destroy them would be wasting so much food, so dogs abound to a far greater extent than cleanliness, comfort or safety would allow.”

I wish to express my appreciation to Dr. Mozes Csoma, the former ambassador of Hungary to Korea, for providing me with a copy of his book (filled with Bozoky’s photographs), Justine Tweed for allowing me to use one of her images and Diane Nars and Suk JiHoon for their invaluable assistance.

Robert Neff has authored and co-authored several books, including Letters from Joseon, Korea Through Western Eyes and Brief Encounters.