In South Korea, some savour last season of legal dog meat

For decades, the hottest days of summer in South Korea were a busy time for dog meat restaurants, with diners seeking traditional stamina-boosting foods. Friday marked the third and final "boknal," or hot day, of 2026, carrying a sense of finality as a nationwide ban on breeding, slaughter, and selling dogs for meat approaches its February 2027 enforcement.

Moran Market in Seongnam, once a renowned hub for dog meat, saw lunchtime crowds, but many establishments have pivoted to other dishes like black goat stew. Those still serving "bosintang," or dog meat stew, are predominantly elderly patrons. "It's really desolate now," said Kim Yong-book, head of the Moran Market Merchants’ Association, who has worked in the area for over 40 years. He described the once-bustling trade center as having become "a town of old people."

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It’s really desolate now.

The ban signifies a long decline in dog meat consumption, driven by increasing pet ownership and evolving attitudes toward animal welfare. A survey preceding the law's passage revealed over 90% of respondents had no intention of eating dog meat again, and more than 80% supported a ban. Government data indicates the legislation affects over 5,600 businesses, with most dog farms already ceasing operations ahead of the deadline.

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a town of old people

The campaign gained significant momentum under former President Yoon Suk Yeol and his wife, Kim Keon Hee, a vocal animal welfare advocate. Parliament passed the ban in January 2024, offering a three-year grace period before full enforcement, which includes prison terms and fines for violators. Authorities have pledged support for affected farmers, distributors, and restaurant owners.

Restaurant owner Lee Kang-chun, a former merchants’ association chairman with 37 years in the trade, expressed mixed feelings. He acknowledged the necessity of ending the practice for South Korea's global image and changing social norms. However, he admitted sadness when elderly customers, some in their 80s and 90s, travel long distances for the dish, only to find it unavailable. "When I see elderly people come all this way and leave because there's no dog meat left, it nearly brings me to tears," he said, noting he continues to serve the dish mainly for his loyal regulars despite soaring costs and minimal profits. He believes authorities should offer more assistance for elderly vendors to transition to new businesses.

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When I see elderly people come all this way and leave because there's no dog meat left, it nearly brings me to tears.