In Vietnam, lost pets lead to desperation—and exploitation

From hanging flyers and posting online to offering cash rewards and searching both pet shops and slaughterhouses, the hunt for a missing dog or cat is driven by hope but riddled with despair, false leads, and in some cases, outright scams.

‘Gas money first’: A risky deal

On Le Hong Phong Street in Vuon Lai Ward, once part of old District 10 before the city’s recent reorganization, a pet shop bustles with activity. 

Middle-aged men sit on plastic chairs surrounded by cages holding adult poodles, pugs, chihuahuas, and British shorthair cats.

The animals look tired. Their coats are dirty and matted, their eyes dull and weary.

The shop owner, who introduced himself as H.P., reacted quickly when told a poodle had gone missing nearby the day before. 

With practiced efficiency, he asked for a photo, coat color, weight, and location of disappearance.

Without hesitation, he promised that his people could help recover the dog. 

The fee, he said, would range from a few million dong, depending on how hard it was to retrieve. (VND1 million = US$38)

Then came the condition: payment first.

“Transfer some 'gas money' up front,” he said. 

“Any amount you can give. That's the only way to keep a fifty-fifty chance.”

He warned against posting online, urging instead, “Just take my number. But remember, send the gas money first.”

At that moment, a young man arrived in a panic. 

He was not shopping for pets but looking for his own, a salt-and-pepper Pomeranian missing for two days. 

H.P. barely glanced at the photo before accepting a few hundred thousand dong via bank transfer to begin the 'search.'

Minutes later, a ride-hailing motorbike driver pulled up with a black poodle mix, hoping to sell. 

H.P. took a quick look and waved him off. “It’s not purebred. Not worth it.”

When asked if any animals in the shop might be stolen pets, H.P.’s tone went cold. “How would I know?”

A few doors down, another shop owner admitted that recent crackdowns by local authorities have made it harder to trade animals without clear origins. 

“People only deal with trusted sources now. No one wants trouble,” he said.

Ransom for a beloved pup

Pham Quynh, 49, of Thanh My Tay Ward in former Binh Thanh District, knows this pain all too well. 

Her four-month-old brown poodle, Bo, vanished after the gate was left open while she took out the trash.

Security footage showed two women picking up Bo and walking away. 

Quynh and her daughter searched the neighborhood, but the trail went cold.

To their shock, they found Bo days later at one of the shops on Le Hong Phong Street. 

He was in a cage, tail wagging wildly at the sight of them.

“He jumped up and down when he saw us,” Quynh said, tearing up. “It was like he was crying too.”

But when they tried to take him home, the shopkeeper demanded VND6 million ($230). 

Quynh pleaded for a discount, explaining their financial hardship. 

The answer was firm: “Take it or leave it.”

After multiple visits and threats to report the incident to police, the shop agreed to reduce the price to VND3 million ($115). 

They claimed they were already losing VND1 million ($38) on the dog.

It took three tense visits, negotiations, and tears before Bo was finally allowed to go home. 

As Quynh and her daughter walked away with the pup in their arms, both cried, believing he might have been crying too.

Exploiting a pet owner’s pain

Social media platforms like Facebook and Zalo are filled with desperate posts by pet owners searching for their lost companions. 

They include photos, heartfelt messages, and often promises of rewards.

But lurking behind these posts are scammers. 

Some contact owners pretending to have found the pet, then ask for gas money or a deposit to hold the animal. Many never follow through.

Others simply demand a ransom. Some owners pay, only to be blocked afterward with no pet returned.

Ngoc Na, a café owner on Truong Sa Street in Nhieu Loc Ward, part of former District 3, was able to recover her black poodle by pretending to be a buyer. 

She later advised others, “If they know you’re the owner, they’ll ask for more. Stay calm and send someone else to talk.”

Lingering grief

For 69-year-old D. Le, who lives in An Lac Ward in erstwhile Binh Tan District, the grief still lingers four years after her chihuahua-Japanese mix Mi No went missing.

Mi No was her companion through illness and aging, a constant presence for eight years. 

One morning, the dog disappeared from her doorstep.

Le searched tirelessly, posting flyers and visiting pet markets across the city. 

One day, while buying food at a shop near her home, she saw a dog that looked just like Mi No tied up behind the counter.

She begged the shop owner to return him and offered to pay any price. 

But they claimed the dog belonged to someone else.

“I didn’t think fast enough to act,” she said later. 

“It wasn’t until days later that I realized they had never had a dog before. That was Mi No.”

When she returned, the dog was gone. She never saw him again.

Eventually, Le took down the flyer that had stayed up for months. It had read, “This dog is old and sick. Please return him before it’s too late.”

“Mi No was everything to me,” she said, her voice shaking. 

“Since he’s gone, it’s been so lonely. I haven’t raised another dog. I’m too old now. And I’m too afraid.”