The author in the ICU in Thailand in 2020.

Four years ago, I woke up in an ICU in Thailand. My liver was failing. I was drinking three bottles of wine a day, chasing it with whiskey, and swallowing handfuls of Valium. I wasn’t trying to numb the pain anymore – I was trying to kill myself. I just didn’t have the guts to do it all at once.

Moving to Thailand was supposed to be my big fix. Back in Ireland, I’d built and sold a successful media company with 40 staff members across three cities. On paper, I was doing well.

In real life, I was a wreck. I’d been a functioning alcoholic for years, hiding behind client meetings, late nights, and a culture where drinking hard was seen as normal. I was burned out, lost, and clinging to the hope that sunshine and distance might change something.

It didn’t.

In fact, Thailand made it worse. The freedom, the quiet, the time – it gave my addiction space to grow. With no structure around me, I lost the plot completely. I drank until I blacked out, every day, for months. I was surrounded by beaches and blue skies, but I wanted to disappear.

The ICU stint scared me straight. It was rock bottom. I left the hospital and never touched a drink again. I woke up and realised I had two options: keep going and die, or stop and face everything I’d been running from. That was the day I quit. I haven’t had a drink since.

But getting sober was just the start. I needed something bigger to hold onto. Something that gave the days shape.

That’s when the dogs came in.

At first, it was just a couple of strays I saw around the island. They were sick, mangy, limping. I left out some food. The next day, more showed up. Then more. Before I knew it, I was feeding dozens – then hundreds. The need was overwhelming. Thailand has millions of street dogs, and most of them are barely surviving.

Nobody else seemed to be doing much. So I figured maybe I could.

What started as something to keep me busy became the centre of my life. Today, I run a sanctuary called Happy Doggo. We feed more than 1,200 dogs every day. We rescue the ones that have been hit by cars, dumped, abused, and left to die. We also fund the sterilisation of thousands a month, which helps stop the suffering before it starts.

These dogs have been through the worst, but they still want to trust. They still look at you with hope. That guts me every time.

One dog in particular changed everything.

Her name is Tina.

I got a WhatsApp message one day – a photo from someone I didn’t know. It showed a dog chained under a shack up in the mountains. She........

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