In the sweltering heat of a sprawling municipal landfill on the outskirts of Bangkok, Thailand, where the air carried the acrid stench of rotting waste and the ground was a treacherous mosaic of shattered glass, twisted metal, and decomposing organic matter, a tiny creature fought for survival amid overwhelming odds. It was late October 2025, and the monsoon rains had only just subsided, leaving behind a slick, hazardous terrain that swallowed boots and hope alike. Hidden beneath a collapsed pile of bamboo scaffolding and discarded fishing nets, a frail, cream-colored puppy—no larger than a man’s shoe—cowered in terror. Her fur, once perhaps a soft golden hue, was matted with grime, oil, and traces of chemical runoff. One eye was swollen shut from infection, and her ribs protruded like the ribs of a broken umbrella. Local scavengers had seen her for days, dodging rats the size of house cats and rummaging through plastic bags for anything edible. No one knew how she got there. Some whispered she’d been dumped by a breeder who deemed her “imperfect” due to a slight facial asymmetry; others suspected she’d wandered from a nearby slum after her mother was killed by a passing truck. What was certain was that without intervention, she had hours—maybe a day—left to live.
The turning point came not from a government agency or a well-funded NGO, but from an unlikely source: a 19-year-old university student and part-time food delivery rider named Arunya “Nuna” Srisuk. On her usual route along the landfill’s perimeter, Nuna had been live-streaming her rides on a local social media app to earn tips. That afternoon, while waiting for her next order, she aimed her phone camera at a pile of construction debris—purely for dramatic effect. The lens caught a faint movement. Zooming in, she saw the puppy’s one open eye, wide with panic, reflecting the phone’s flash like a plea. Nuna ended the stream immediately, but not before 3,200 viewers had already seen the clip. Within minutes, the video was shared across Thai animal welfare groups, tagged with urgent pleas in Thai, English, and Khmer. One of those shares reached the National Rescue Center for Animals Caring Media (NRCACM)—an organization with a small but fiercely dedicated branch in Nonthaburi Province, just 40 kilometers away.
The NRCACM team, led by veterinarian Dr. Somsak Chaiyaporn, mobilized within the hour. But the rescue was far from straightforward. The landfill was privately operated by a waste management conglomerate with strict no-entry policies for non-employees. Dr. Somsak’s initial request for access was denied over liability concerns. Undeterred, the team turned to their network of citizen volunteers. A local journalist, tipped off by the viral video, pressured the company through a hastily published exposé on hazardous conditions for both humans and animals. By nightfall, under the glare of floodlights and escorted by two security guards, the NRCACM crew—equipped with headlamps, protective suits, and a collapsible carrier—navigated the dump’s labyrinth. They followed a trail of tiny paw prints in the mud, leading past a smoldering pile of electronics that still sparked intermittently. At 11:47 p.m., rescuer Pimchanok “Pim” Thongdee spotted the puppy wedged between a rusted oil drum and a splintered wooden pallet. The pup snarled weakly, more fear than aggression, before collapsing from exhaustion.
Back at the NRCACM clinic, the surprises kept coming. Initial examinations revealed the puppy was not only malnourished but suffering from a rare autoimmune condition causing localized alopecia—explaining her patchy, almost albino-like appearance. Blood tests showed elevated heavy metal levels, likely from ingesting landfill leachate. Yet, astonishingly, her heart and lungs were strong. Dr. Somsak estimated her age at 10–12 weeks, making her survival thus far nothing short of miraculous. The team named her “Jai Yen”—Thai for “cool heart”—a nod to her calm demeanor once she felt safe. Over the next 72 hours, Jai Yen received intravenous fluids, medicated baths, and a custom diet of hydrolyzed protein to combat allergies. Veterinary students from Kasetsart University, following the case online, crowdfunded a specialized dermatology lamp usually reserved for exotic zoo animals.
But the story doesn’t end with medical recovery. Three days post-rescue, a twist emerged that captivated international media. A Dutch tourist couple, vacationing in Phuket, recognized Jai Yen from NRCACM’s daily Instagram updates. They claimed to have seen a similar-looking puppy advertised months earlier by a now-defunct “designer micro-dog” breeder in Chiang Mai. DNA testing—funded by a Singapore-based animal welfare foundation—confirmed a 99.7% match to a lineage of experimental “teacup Pomeranian-Chihuahua” crosses. The breeder had apparently culled the litter after buyers complained of “deformities.” Jai Yen was the sole survivor. The revelation sparked outrage across Southeast Asia, prompting Thai authorities to raid the breeder’s abandoned facility, where they found 17 other dogs in deplorable conditions.
As Jai Yen’s fur began to regrow—revealing a stunning champagne-blonde coat with subtle silver tipping—her personality emerged. Far from the timid scavenger, she proved playfully mischievous, stealing socks from volunteers and “herding” the clinic’s resident cat with enthusiastic yips. By week two, she’d mastered sitting for treats and could navigate a mini obstacle course designed for physical therapy. The NRCACM, recognizing her potential as an ambassador, partnered with a Bangkok-based production company to create a short documentary. Titled From Rubbish to Riches, the film premiered at the 2025 Southeast Asian Animal Welfare Summit in Singapore, where it won the “Most Inspiring Rescue” award.
The search for Jai Yen’s forever home became a global affair. Applications poured in from Sweden, Canada, and even Japan. But the NRCACM insisted on a local adoption to keep her story rooted in Thailand. The chosen family? None other than Nuna Srisuk—the student whose livestream started it all. Now studying veterinary nursing on a scholarship funded by public donations, Nuna had followed Jai Yen’s progress obsessively. During the home visit, Jai Yen leapt into Nuna’s lap, licking away tears. The match was undeniable.
Today, Jai Yen lives in a modest apartment overlooking the Chao Phraya River. Her once-swollen eye is fully healed, leaving only a faint scar that Nuna calls her “badge of courage.” She sleeps on a bed embroidered with the NRCACM logo and has her own verified Instagram account (@JaiYenTheSurvivor) with 1.2 million followers. Proceeds from sponsored posts fund mobile spay-neuter clinics in rural Thailand. The landfill where she was found? Under public pressure, the waste company installed wildlife-safe fencing and partnered with NRCACM to relocate other strays.
Jai Yen’s journey—from a discarded “reject” to a symbol of resilience—reminds us that hope often emerges from the unlikeliest places. Her story has inspired similar livestream-to-rescue initiatives in Indonesia, the Philippines, and Cambodia, proving that in the digital age, a single frame can change a life. As Dr. Somsak often says, “We didn’t just save a puppy. We saved a movement.”
