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| Nigerian men celebrating after a dog eating ceremony in Lagos |
If food had a World Cup, Nigeria would already be warming up in a very… special category. The country proudly ranks as the third-largest consumer of dog meat on Earth, politely allowing only South Korea and Vietnam to wear the gold and silver medals. Around here, dog meat answers to the stylish nickname “404” — not because it’s missing, but because somebody’s pet has officially gone offline, especially in Cross River and Akwa Ibom.
And no, this isn’t a new-age foodie trend. It’s been loading for generations. Among the Efik and Ibibio, dog meat isn’t just lunch — it’s a ceremonial celebrity. Wedding? Invite dog. Funeral? Invite dog. Festival? Of course, invite dog. Then dress it up with gin and scent leaves, because nothing screams “fine dining” like mixing herbs with your former night guard.
But wait — the legend continues. In some communities, 404 isn’t just food, it’s a subscription service for strength and vitality. One plate and suddenly you’re energised, confident, and ready to argue in three WhatsApp groups at once. While city folks debate almond milk and calorie counts, others are still loyal to nature’s original energy drink: peppered dog.
For shoppers looking for premium “best friend deals,” markets like the Dawaki dog market in Plateau State are booming. Traders travel from north, south and even neighbouring countries, proving that when business is barking, nobody asks too many questions. It’s basically Amazon Prime — but with more woof and less Wi-Fi.
Of course, animal rights activists keep pulling the emergency brake with words like “cruel” and “unsanitary.” Lawmakers responded with Olympic-level calm and rejected a ban in parts of Akwa Ibom. Translation: the menu stays open, the pots stay hot, and regulation is still loading… maybe forever.
Then the health experts arrive with their favourite party-spoiling playlist: rabies, infections, stray animals, transport risks. Apparently, moving random dogs across states before turning them into soup isn’t what doctors recommend for a long life. Who could have imagined?
Still, Nigeria is beautifully divided. In some cities, dog-meat joints proudly serve loyal customers. In others, mentioning dog meat can start arguments faster than politics or football. Culture, religion and location decide whether you’re buying a toy for the dog — or buying tomatoes to cook it.
In the end, Nigeria’s famous dog-meat ranking isn’t just about food. It’s about tradition shaking hands with modern life while both side-eye each other. One group says “heritage,” another says “health,” and somewhere in between, someone is asking the most Nigerian question of all:
“So… how spicy is the Bingo today?”

