It's time to remove dog meat from the dinner table

For some Koreans, dogs are like their children. (Photo by Ahn Seong-bok)

My grandmother loves dog stew. I remember my grandmother enjoying dog meat to take away as a birthday gift and asking me to eat it with her – I didn't like the unique taste of this dish. For older Koreans, dog meat is tender and delicious. But for many young people, it is a taste of the past.

It's not just my grandmother who likes dog food. When I was a teenager, members of my local church ate dog stew together after Sunday service, as a special treat.

In Korea, this dish is called “health stew” or “nutrition stew” because it is believed that it can help people recover from illness or injury.

According to Humane Society International, a non-governmental organization based in the UK, dog meat is still eaten in some Asian countries. But it is Korea that attracts a lot of criticism in the West, where most people consider dogs as pets and companions.

Park Ji-sung, the South Korean star midfielder who played for Manchester United from 2005 to 2012, endured taunts when fans of the Premier League club sang a song mocking their meat-eating habits dog of your country.

When South Korea hosted the Winter Olympics in Pyeongchang in 2018, the government asked local restaurants to remove dog meat from menus to avoid offending Western tourists, a sign of change.

Two decades after my grandmother passed away, her favorite dish is on the verge of extinction because most Koreans no longer consider dogs as a source of food. Increasingly, we think of them as friends or family members – a fifth of the population now owns dogs as pets.

For some Koreans, dogs are like their children. A friend who owns two dogs told me that if a war breaks out, he will not flee to a shelter because dogs are banned. “I raised them as my own children. How can I abandon them even when war breaks out?” he say.

Cuckoo is the name of my 2-year-old white jindo - a medium-sized Korean breed with erect ears. I walk with him every day for 30 minutes to a nearby park, one of my favorite activities. He likes to smell the grass, chase cats and run through trees. The cuckoo jumped for joy when I got home. I brought beef bones to Cuckoo after eating at a beef restaurant, and I can't imagine life without Cookoo. It truly is my family.

In January, the South Korean National Assembly voted almost unanimously to end the slaughter of animals for meat. The vote was an unusual display of bipartisan harmony in the country's increasingly polarized Congress.

Lawmakers from both the ruling People's Power Party and the opposition Democratic Party of Korea have sought change and it was a campaign pledge of President Yoon Suk Yeol. Kim Keon Hee, South Korea's first lady, known for her advocacy of animal protection - including caring for abandoned dogs and cats - also pushed for change.

From 2027, anyone who kills dogs for food will face up to three years in prison or a maximum fine of 3 million won ($30), and anyone who sells food that includes dog meat or other ingredients originating from dogs can be punished with 22.780 years in prison or a fine of 2 million won.

This Act aims to contribute to improving animal welfare and harmonious coexistence between humans and animals,” the law says.

I don't judge my grandmother's preferences, but if she were alive, I would have to tell her how I feel. “Grandma, I know you like dog stew. But it's time to say goodbye.”