What is unnerving is that dogs are rarely seen anywhere in the countryside, except in cages or with chains around their necks, guarding farms and homes. Near this farm was a sign in big letters, “We serve dog and chicken.” The farmer said that he sells his dogs to this and other restaurants in the area.

At the farm area there are the dogs in rows of cages, living as they do, hidden away, in daily peril of being chosen next for meat. There are the pained and bewildered looks, the desperate attempts to escape through the bars, and the now familiar instruments of death.

The farmer breeds the dogs here, where all the puppies are born. He said that business is the same as always, which he said was good. He moved here 20 years ago, when he and his wife started selling approximately 600 dogs a year. He mentioned in passing that the Catholic Church is a big buyer, especially for its charity events, when Church representatives buy a lot of dog meat from him. Apparently, church leaders, unlike many others in South Korean society, openly and without shame, express their great passion for eating dog meat.

The farmer does allow that his neighbors are worried about the price of land. He also confessed that his son was at a disadvantage in finding a marriage partner because of what he does for a living.

Three dogs of smallish size and one a little bigger are taken from this sordid and deadly landscape. The farmer roughly, almost violently, grabs each one and drops the dog into a wheelbarrow.

They are immediately named Biko, Yuna, Mimi, and Jenny and are taken to a nearby shelter, in late evening. Yuna has a large scar, meaning she would have been a bargain sale as damaged goods. The hair will never grow back but it has healed nicely. The farmer said that she was bitten by a larger dog in another cage and was then placed with smaller dogs but it is later discovered during a vet visit that it is more likely she was badly scalded during an attempt to burn her alive.