From Shanghai Streets to New York Skies: The Story of Sissi and Mumu

When Sissi met Mumu, a timid chocolate-brown pup rescued from the streets of Shanghai, neither knew their story would soon span two continents. What began as a simple act of fostering became a bond built on trust, patience, and love, from trembling car rides to riverside walks under the Manhattan skyline.

 

To start, could you please introduce yourself and your pup?

Hi! My name is Sissi. I’m from Shanghai and recently graduated from college in New York, where I studied Economics and Art History. My dog’s name is Mumu. She seems to be a mix of poodle and schnauzer (though I’m not entirely sure).

She was born in early 2024 and rescued in Shanghai when she was about five months old. I met her that summer, and later that year, we moved to New York together. Since then, she’s been growing up with me here, from long walks in the park to quiet evenings at home.

 

You mentioned Mumu was rescued in Shanghai. Can you tell us a bit more about the story of how your paths first crossed? Was it love at first sight, or something that unfolded over time?

Mumu came into my life in May 2024 through The Someone Animal Rescue in Shanghai. She was about 5 months old then, found wandering the streets and taken to a city shelter. Time was running out. If no one rescued her within a few days, she would have been euthanized :/

At the time, I had just returned home from college for the summer. I’d always wanted a dog but never found the right moment. When I learned that local rescue groups were looking for foster families (temporary homes that help rescued dogs recover and prepare for adoption), I decided to volunteer. A week later, they sent me a message: they had just saved a shy little dog who needed a place to stay. When I looked at her picture, her face still bore the marks of a rough haircut, suggesting she had likely been abandoned by her previous owner.

Her name was Mumu.

 

(When Mumu was just found on the street)

From fostering to forever, what made you decide to bring her home for good?

When I first signed up to be a foster family, there was a question on the form asking what kind of dog I liked. I wrote, “a medium-sized, curly-haired dog, maybe a poodle mix.” A week later, the rescue team sent me a video of a small chocolate-brown girl with soft curls and gentle eyes. Mumu looked exactly like the kind of dog I had described.

Mumu was lively and sweet, but also very timid and sensitive. From the time she was five months old, I watched her slowly explore the world and overcome her fears of cars, trash bags, baby strollers, and all the new things in daily life. She became braver and started to trust me deeply.

During that period, I often took her to adoption events to meet potential adopters. Each time, I found myself worrying whether others would truly understand her sensitive personality and what she needed to feel safe. She had already adjusted so well to my home, and I didn’t want her to go through another round of uncertainty or adaptation.

After arranging all the paperwork to bring her with me to the U.S., I made my final decision. I wanted to adopt her and give her a stable, lifelong home.

 

Thinking back to when you first met, what was your first day together like?

Absolutely. I met Mumu at an adoption event, a week after she was rescued. She was standing inside a small fenced area with other puppies, stretching her neck to look at the people outside. I remember thinking -

Do they know that if someone likes them today, they might finally have a home?

The moment I saw her, I thought she was even more beautiful than in the videos, her chocolate-brown fur soft, shiny, and gentle to the touch. When I took her home, she was nervous, her eyes constantly glancing back as if unsure whether to trust me. In the car, she trembled; it was probably her first time riding in one. I held her tightly in my arms, and she gripped my arm with her tiny paws as if afraid to let go.

At home, everything was new and scary for her: stairs, curtains, even small noises. I kept wondering how such a timid little dog had survived on the streets of Shanghai. But within hours, she began to trust me. She followed me everywhere, slept beside me, and even wore her diaper patiently at night. From that day on, I became her person!

 

(Mumu at the adoption event)

It sounds like you've shared quite a journey since then. How long have you been together now?

As of October 2025, Mumu and I have been about together for one year and five months. We spent our first three months in Shanghai, living with my family, and then moved to New York for my final year of college. Mumu even came to campus with me almost every day!

After graduation, we moved to Long Island City from the Upper West Side, by the river. It’s been a new chapter for both of us, but she’s adapted beautifully, just like she always does.

 

 

How did you choose her name? Is there a story behind it?

Actually, I didn’t name her myself. When Mumu was first rescued, she stayed with another volunteer who called her “Mu,” which originally came from the word 牧 (shepherd).

When she came to live with me, I decided to keep the sound but change the meaning - from 牧 to 木 (wood). I thought it suited her better because her fur is the same warm, comforting brown as wood.

 

You've shared so much about her early days - if Mumu could talk for just one day, what's the very first question you'd want to ask? Or what do you want to tell them?

I’d want to know about her life before me, all the moments that shaped her before our paths crossed.

Why were you abandoned? Who gave you that uneven haircut when you were wandering the streets? What kind of people did you meet along the way - were they kind that offered you food, or voices that made you afraid? And who were your dog parents? I wonder if they had your same bright eyes and stubborn little spirit.

Then I’d probably start asking about her eating habits. Why are you so picky Mumu? I get it if you don’t like freeze-dried food (it probably doesn’t smell “meaty” enough), but what about all the new treats I buy for you? Why must every meal feel like a negotiation?

 

Now that you've settled into life together, where’s your favorite place to walk or spend time with Mumu together?

When we lived on the Upper West Side, we used to go to the Morningside Park Dog Run almost every day. Riverside Park and Central Park North were both close by, and Mumu loved them all.

Since moving to Long Island City, our routine has changed a little. In the evenings, we walk along the East River, watching the Manhattan skyline light up. And in the mornings, we take quiet walks through Gantry Plaza State Park. Those moments have become our favorite part of the day.

 

Even on a hard day, dogs have a way of lifting the mood without even trying. What's something Mumu does that never fails to make you smile?

I’m not sure if it’s because Mumu used to be a stray, but she has a funny habit of hiding her snacks whenever she can’t finish them. When she was younger, just after I adopted her, she would do this almost every day. She’d take a treat she liked, carry it to her bed, and bury it carefully.

The funniest part is that she doesn’t want anyone watching. If she notices me following her, she’ll start whining softly and move to another room to find a new secret spot. Later, she often forgets where she hid everything, and weeks later I’ll find an old treat tucked in a corner of the closet or under a blanket.

 

You've watched her grow from a shy puppy into a confident young dog. How has Mumu grown or changed over time, and what have you learned through those changes?

Mumu has changed in many quiet but meaningful ways since she was a puppy. When she was little, she wanted to play with every dog she met. She’d wag her tail wildly, run up to anyone, and if another dog didn’t like her enthusiasm, she’d immediately roll over on her back as if to say, “I mean no harm!”

Around one year old, she became a little more selective. She would approach carefully, test the waters, and if the other dog liked to run, they’d chase each other endlessly - pure joy, no conflicts.

But as time went on, things shifted again. She stopped greeting every dog, sometimes choosing instead to sit quietly in a corner of the dog park, chewing on a stick by herself. I used to worry she was becoming antisocial. Or that something might be wrong. Eventually, I realized it was just another stage of growing up. Like people, dogs also learn their own boundaries. She wasn’t avoiding others; she was discovering the comfort of space.

Lately, she’s become more confident. She no longer tolerates rude dogs who sniff her too long or paw at her without invitation. She growls back now, not out of fear, but out of self-assurance, with a clear sense of what she likes and doesn’t like. Of course, she’s still learning; sometimes she insists on playing with dogs who clearly aren’t interested and ends up getting barked at or chased away.

Through all these changes, I’ve realized that every dog is an individual, with their own preferences, fears, and rhythms of growth. And as she learns when to reach out and when to step back, I find myself learning the same lesson: how to love with patience, and how to give her space when she needs it.

(Mumu in Cave Canem's Pastoris Coat)

It sounds like Mumu's presence has shaped your days in so many ways. How has she changed you life?

Mumu has made my life more balanced. Living alone in New York, my routine could easily become chaotic. But her schedule (her meals, her walks) gave my days structure and rhythm.

Because of her, I go outside twice a day no matter the weather. I get fresh air, stretch my legs, and take a moment to simply exist. She’s made both my mind and body healthier and my heart, steadier.

 

If Mumu could understand one thing you say, what would you want it be?

I wish she could understand the words “I love you.”

I often wish dogs could truly understand the words we say. But over time, I’ve realized that they don’t grasp language itself. What they understand are the patterns of life, the rhythm of our days and the feelings that come with them. “Sit” becomes a movement; “go for a walk” becomes the joy of stepping outside. Their understanding doesn’t live in words, but in the moments those words create.

Still, dogs feel emotions in ways language could never express. They don’t know that sadness brings tears, yet they sense it and quietly rest beside you. They don’t know that happiness means laughter, yet they feel it by wagging their tails when your heart feels light. Maybe it’s through scent, maybe through movement, but somehow, they always know.

Love, however, is different.

When I hold her close and whisper, “I love you,” she may feel my warmth, my calm, my affection. But love isn’t a command, nor something tied to an action. It has no scent, no shape, no visible form.

If she could understand only one thing, I would want her to know this: when I say “I love you,” it means thank you. Thank you for growing with me, for grounding me, for bringing peace into my days. It means she is already everything love could ever mean.

 

You've describe Mumu so vividly. If you had to sum her up in three words, what would they be?

Bold. Vibrant. Independent.

Mumu is friendly to both people and dogs, always full of energy and eager to play. She adapts easily to new environments, loves exploring new places, and makes friends wherever she goes. At the same time, she has her own little world. She isn’t overly dependent on me, and she’s brave enough to explore things on her own.

 

And finally, if Mumu could look back on her life one day, what do you hope she'd remember? What stands out in your mind as the essence of the life you've shared?

I hope Mumu remembers all the places we’ve lived together, the parks she sniffed, the cities we explored, and the friends who loved her along the way. I want her to remember what it felt like to be carefree, and to be surrounded by love.

I hope she remembers all her firsts: flying on a plane, running on the beach, hiking up a mountain, playing in new dog parks, and watching the world change through four seasons.

More than anything, I hope she remembers that her life with me was filled with joy, adventure, and the simple happiness of growing up together.