Meet Cherry Garcia!

We spent the last five or six years wanting a second dog to keep Princess Libby company. She indicated earlier on that she’s partial to golden retrievers and border collies. Since border collies usually require plenty of outdoor space for exercise we decided that a golden retriever is more suitable for our city lifestyle. The plan was to get a golden retriever puppy after we come back from France at the end of July. Her name was to start with the letter “J”, after Jason, since Libby has my initials. Well, so much for planning.

Last week, when I was browsing through photos on flickr, I saw a cute puppy in one of my contacts’ photo stream. It’s a four-month old mongrel puppy waiting to be adopted. I fell in love instantly, not only because she’s cute, but also because she reminds me of Libby when she was a pup. We drove out to meet her the very next day with Libby in tow. She seems to be a happy and healthy puppy so we decided to take her home for a one-week trial, mainly to see if Libby would accept her as a second dog.

One week later, things are looking good for the puppy. Libby has been, for the most part, tolerant of the new addition to her pack. Wrinkled lips and growling does occur every now and then, but it’s all in the necessary education of the new pup. For a pup that was paper-trained, she’s only had three accidents in the house in the past week.(update, she had two more accidents on the day I wrote this post, sigh) I’ve been taking her out every time she wakes up from a nap and every time she eats, which amounts to every 2-3 hours. The aim was to not give her any chance to do her business inside. Today, she came up with a way to tell me that she wants to go out by going to the hallway door and wait. What a smart little girl! We changed her name from Cherish to Cherry, short for Cherry Garcia. And she is here to stay!

On the non-toilet related fronts however, she’s not such a good girl. When she first arrived she had the bad habit of mouthing people when she plays. I am a firm believer that under no circumstances are a dog’s teeth ever to touch human flesh, except during teeth brushing so I have my work cut out for me. She still chews things that she shouldn’t (just today her sharp puppy teeth cut through the power cord to our cordless phone in 2 seconds) but she’s getting much better with people. She needs constant supervision and either doesn’t understand the meaning of “NO” or is too stubborn to listen. She tests her limits constantly and is not discouraged if her attempt fails the first time. We have to remind ourselves constantly that she’s only four months old and can’t be compared to Libby, who’s just about the most perfect dog one can hope for. It is frustrating training a puppy but I do know that if we are strict at the beginning our lives and hers will be much easier later on. We can always spoil her later, when she’s grown up to be a well-mannered adult, but for now I’m sounding like a broken record: “NO Cherry!” “Ouch Cherry!” “Off Cherry!” “BAD DOG, Cherry!”

See more of Cherry's photos here.

Graceful Libby

Hi Jason-san

Libby-chan left Japan as scheduled. She is so cute dog. We let her drink some of the water before just before giving to CX also filled some water to the dish. She was shaking when I put onto the car but by the time we arrived NRT she was fine. At the quarantine inspection she was just walking around the room and looking for way to go out. After the inspections when I said 'HOUSE' she just went into the cage by herself.

Thank you very much for using our service and I hope you will enjoy HKG life with Libby-chan.

Best Regards
Kotaro Kino

We received the above email from our pet-mover in Japan. That same night, Libby arrived in our serviced apartment in Hong Kong. A little dazed and dehydrated but otherwise healthy, she gave the apartment a quick sniff and proceeded to drink all the water in the dish. Perhaps still in shock, she didn’t seem too happy to see us, but now, a week later, she’s fully adjusted to her new life in yet another crazy, busy, fast-paced Asian city.

From time to time, we still think back on the day almost eight years ago when we brought Libby home. She was so tiny that I used to take her outside holding her in my palm. Her nose would be at the tip of my fingertips and her little bum would just reach my wrist. When she was little, she looked remarkably like a German Shepherd puppy. As she grew up, however, her unmistaken identity of a Singaporean drain dog became apparent. In a nation where some so-called “dog lovers” hold a piece of pedigree paper to greater importance than the dog itself, poor Libby was unjustly ignored and discriminated against. We had another dog at the time, a handsome rambunctious beagle that demanded everyone’s attention wherever we went. Libby lived under his shadow quietly but gracefully, always the more obedient and better-behaved one.

When we moved to Tokyo, not only did she have to adjust to a drastically different climate, she also had to deal with a city that has much less green. She quickly changed her toilet habit and went from only going on grass to making do with dirt patches. As the temperature dropped, she slowly grew a thick coat of soft fluffy fur. My little scrawny dog was starting to look like an exotic beauty. Unfamiliar with her looks, many Japanese asked me what breed she was. Despite the fact that she was a mongrel through and through, they embraced her uniqueness all the same. That’s what I call true dog lovers.

This time around, what does Hong Kong have in store for us, I’m anxious to find out. I wasn’t sure how Libby would react to the small cramped space of our serviced apartment. Having lived most of her life in a place with an open garden, I also worried about her toilet schedule. Now a week later, all my worries have vanished. It took us a day or two, but Libby and I found a quiet street in the middle of SoHo (I later discovered that it was a prison on the other side of the tall wall) where she can do her business in peace. She’s even gotten used to going on concrete too. It just means that her human has to carry a bottle of water to wash it off. But hey, if Libby can adapt to such drastic changes without complaint, what’s toting a bottle of water around every time we go out?

Happy Birthday Libby

My sweet Libby turned seven today. That’s 49 in human years! (But according to this, her real age is only 32. Yes, I’m a compulsive test taker.)

There’s a Chinese saying that goes something like this “a girl goes through eighteen changes before she becomes a woman” (女大十八变). I kowtow to this because it so accurately applies not only girls, but girl dogs also.



This was Libby at the tender age of 8 weeks, waiting for her vaccination shots at the vet’s office. She came home with us on that day and we nicknamed her “FeiFei,” which means chubby in Chinese (肥肥).

She outgrew her chubbiness and cuteness at an astonishing speed and became a gangly teenager who seemed all legs, with no meat on her bones. She stayed skinny for two more years, even after coming to Japan with us (we got her while living in Singapore).



Thank goodness she realized pretty soon that she needed to grow more fur to combat Tokyo’s cold winter and was soon sporting some serious fluff, especially in the nether regions. I thought the new furrier look suits her immensely and she can finally be called a beauty. Or is her beauty only in the eyes of one doting owner?

Well, regardless of what she looks like, we still think the world of her, and here’s to another seven years of swimming


snow eating


Frisbee catching


Sunbathing


Rolling


socializing, singing, cat chasing, and just being a really cool dog!

Princess Chariot

Libby is picky about the surface that she walks on. She prefers grass and carpet over asphalt and hardwood floor, and she especially hates uneven surfaces such as those covered with small pebbles.

On our hanami trip to the palace on Sunday, Libby decided that she simply could not walk even one more step on those horrendous pebbles and made a great effort to feign pain and discomfort. So daddy rose to the occasion and carried the Princess over his shoulder until she could touch down on concrete pavement. Even concrete is better than pebbles!

Doggie Helper

Since the in-laws are coming to stay, I am having to haul home twice the amount of milk. So I saddled up Libby and made her carry milk for me on the way home from our walk.



The cat says, “What the heck?!”

My Baby Can Howl

Like all mommies, sometimes I’m just so darn proud of my baby that I have to share it with the world, or just those who read my blog.

So here is the thing. In the ward that I live in, Minato-ku, a melody is broadcasted over the entire ward at exactly 5 pm everyday. I heard it’s to remind kids to go home for dinner (nice to see my tax money go to good use, eh?). It’s hard to describe the melody if you have never been to Japan, but for those who know, it’s like the chime played at school.

One day, I happened to walk under one of the loudspeakers with Libby at precisely 5pm. A few seconds after the melody started I heard this really funny hoarse kind of noise. I turned my head around to see where it’s coming from and then realized that my Libby was the source of this strange sound. She had her neck stretched out and nose pointed upward, like a little wolf! This being the first time in her life that she attempted to howl, half the sound died off in her throat and what came out sounded more like choking than howling. I was so amused by it that I burst out laughing in the middle of the street, and I think Libby was immensely embarrassed. She didn’t give up though and would try every now and then to perfect her howling.

She finally succeeded today! Since we are grounded at home by the incessant rain, Libby spent most part of the day on the couch by the window. When the chime went off at 5, she felt inspired to answer. Still curled up in a ball with her chin rested on her front paws, she effortlessly howled the most beautiful mezzo-soprano howl that I’ve ever heard.

Bravo, Libby! Mommy’s so proud.

Like Mother like daughter

I have an annoying habit of only being able to sleep in absolute darkness. Even the dim green light emitting from some digital alarm clocks installed into the headboard in some business hotels throws me off. So I have to wear an eye-mask to bed. I recently discovered that Libby hates light when she sleeps just as much as I do. Isn't that unusual in a dog?



Look at her trying to stick her head under the coffee table to escape from the bright light. Maybe I should make her a doggie eye-mask ;oP

Libby's Best Friend

Libby is quite picky about the company that she keeps. As a result, she does not have many doggie friends. They are either too big, too small, too shy, too aggressive, or too whatever-it-is-that-turns-Princess-Libby-off. The friends she does make though, are instant, like Mu-kun, a five-year-old Border Collie. It was a mutual attraction at first sight and you can feel the chemistry between them.

We ran into Mu-kun today at the cemetary again, and they had their usual little dance before saying goodbye. It's always kept short but full of excitement nonetheless.

Shall we play?



By all means.



Until next time.



(The person lying on the ground in the background is the resident homeless guy in Aoyama cemetary. I always find him in the same spot on sunny days. I wonder where he goes when it rains.)

Valentine’s Day Part 1: Lost Dog Found

It happened while I was walking Libby in Aoyama cemetery. I let Libby off leash as I always do in places where there are no people or cars. Suddenly, she rushed ahead tail wagging. Following the direction she was going, I saw a -mix dog standing at the end of a row of tombstones, also off-leash. Libby took an instant liking to the shiba-mix and pranced around him in her play-invitation pose. The other dog seemed a little weary and mostly stayed still. When I got to where both dogs were, I realized something was wrong. There was no owner with the shiba dog. I looked around and called out to see if anyone is around but there was no answer. On a closer look, the shiba dog had on an old leather collar but no tag was attached. He appeared disoriented and a little apprehensive when I reached out to pet him. By the look of white hair on his muzzle and head, he must be around 8 or 9 years old. I decided that I couldn’t leave this Ojichan (old man) in the cemetery all by himself. Luckily, I was walking Libby with a multi-purpose adjustable leash with a hook on each end, so I hooked Ojichan shiba on to the other end of the leash and thought of what I should do next.

Bringing him home is not practical because I have no idea whether he’s house trained or not and I really can’t afford to have stained carpet in my apartment (wouldn’t the landlord just be waiting to pounce on that!). Leaving him in the yard is out of the question too because for one thing it is cold at night and he could bark all night in a strange environment, and if he'd been living on his own for long, he might have caught some disease and might give it to Libby. Thinking quickly, I decided to bring him to the Kouban (police box) at Omotesando crossing. Maybe the owner has reported the missing dog to the police, besides, the J-cops need some real work to do.

I was surprised at how well Libby and Ojichan shiba walked together on the same leash. As if knowing his rescuee status, Ojichan shiba walked two steps behind Libby, and when Libby stopped to sniff something, he waited until she’s done before taking a sniff himself. Thoughts of keeping him for myself crossed my mind, just fleetingly.

The arrival of Libby and Ojichan shiba caused a stir in the tiny police box (I counted seven cops in such a small space). As a standard procedure, I was asked to leave my name and contact information (I know this from a previous kouban experience). We then discussed in length what should be done with Ojichan shiba, since nobody has reported a missing dog. At first they wanted me to take him home with me, but I managed to persuade them that it’s better for them to keep him temporarily. They said they could keep him for two days, but if nobody claims him, they will need to send him to the shelter, but agreed to call me before they do so. While I negotiated with the J-cops, Ojichan shiba sat in a dignified posture outside the Kouban watching the fashionable Omotesando crowds milling about. He even patiently put up with one of the cops’ attempts to find out what tricks he knew. Once in a while, his ears would prick up, as if recognizing something or someone, but he soon went back to his calm observation mode.

Forty minutes after finding Ojichan shiba, I bade him farewell and wished him good luck. Walking home, I started to wonder if I had done the right thing turning him to the police. What if they send him to the shelter without telling me first? I heard animal shelters are extremely short of space and most dogs are only given two to three days before they are put down. Had I inadvertently sentenced Ojichan shiba to death? Will he have a better chance if I had taken him in? As I started making dinner, my agitation grew and I decided that I should put up some flyers in the neighborhood first thing in the morning telling Ojichan shiba’s owner to go to the police box to claim him. I mentally picked out the places where I would post the flyers and counted how many copies I'd need. I even emailed my Japanese friend to come up with a catchy title so people would take notice. (Wouldn’t you know it? The only time I don’t bring my T-1 on walks, something like this happens. It would’ve been so much better if I had a picture. Of course, taking a photo with my phone never crossed my one-track mind.)

Just when my paranoia was running rampant (images of Ojichan shiba pleading for his life with his eyes swirled wildly in my head), the phone rang. It was the police. The owner was found! Five minutes later, the owner called.

The dog actually lives in Roppongi (so the dog detective lady’s theory that says dogs who get lost rarely go out of a half-mile radius did not apply here) and ran away from home. His name is Saab, and the owner is on her way to collect him from the police.

This is what I call a happy ending.

Who's the Luckiest Dog in the World?

Why, of course, Libby is! Who else gets to eat home-made liver cakes like these? (actually, my ex-colleagues' dogs do too as I am giving some of it to them tonight)

Still, Libby is one lucky pooch to sample this delicacy lovingly prepared by moi. I must say, they were a bloody mess (and I mean this literally) to make but for Libby, it was worth it! They smell pretty darn good too, just like liver pate.

Bon appetit, Wibby!

The Dog Knows it All

I love dogs, but I am not one to believe in every amazing tale that over-enthused dog owner recount to prove how smart their dogs are (maybe it’s for the selfish reason that Libby ain't the smartest cookie?). For instance, dog keeps sniffing at owner's mole on leg, owner has it checked out, it's cancerous. Reason: dogs love to sniff at black speckles against light background. Libby sniffs at black lint on our beige carpet all the time. The carpet has got cancer?! Another one, my dog is so smart he/she can tell it's the weekend. Reason? Your weekend routine is different from your weekday routine, and your pets pick up on that.

This morning, however, Libby's behavior led me to think maybe, just maybe, dogs do know more than I give them credit for. As you know, today is the first of my many non-working days to come. In order not to waste my days away by sleeping in late everyday, I have long decided that I'd drive Jason to work every morning and then go to the gym afterwards. We got up as usual, I fed Libby and let her out into the yard to do her business. Normally, when she comes back in, she goes to the study and curls up in her usual spot to continue her beauty sleep while we prepare to leave. She doesn't even see us out but will present her tummy when we go to say goodbye to her before leaving (for the brief period I was using Bowlingual to interpret her doggie language, this is when she goes," Please don't leave me. I hate to be alone." Is it any wonder that I stopped using that damned Bowlingual? It is utterly depressing. But I digress). Today, however, she kept on coming into the bathroom to check on us, and when I finally got dressed, she ran towards the door, as if expecting me to take her for a walk.

How did she know? How could she tell that today is different from other days? We did exactly the same thing we do every morning. Ok, maybe not exactly the same.
a) We got up half an hour later than usual now that I don’t have that 8:30 bell to meet. (This means Libby has a biological clock so accurate it can actually tell exact time).
b) I wore jeans instead of the usual dress pants or skirts. (This implies Libby can tell what I’m wearing and associate that with whether it’s a workday or not. Hmm, I wonder if she passes judgments on my outfits)
c) Without having to be work at 8:30 sharp, I am much more relaxed and did not snap at Jason when he asked me if his pants go with his shirt. (This is the most believable reason since we all know dogs are acutely tuned into their humans’ moods and body language)

Regardless of what the reason is, Libby’s intelligence level just went up a notch in my book. So don’t roll your eyes the next time I tell you my dog’s a genius!

Close Encounter

On our way back from a morning run (walking for me) around the Gaien, Libby had a close encounter with a yellow tabby. The cat must have blown up to twice his original size.

Let's take a closer look at the cat.



Incidetally, as I blog this Libby, who's been sleeping peacefully on the couch all of a sudden started to speak in her sleep. Little yelping sounds. Do ya think she's dreaming about that cat?

Hello, my name is Libby.



Do I look like a begging grizzly bear?

Doggie Pillow

Libby was fluffy and soft after a bath, so Jason decided to use her as a pillow.

Upside-down Libby

One of Jason’s favorite pastimes is to think of different ways to torture our sweet Libby. This shows the newest torture technique that Jason has come up with. (And you wonder why I don't want kids?)



Libby, being the sweet-natured dog that she is, is totally defenseless against such roughhousing. It took her years to realize that it can’t be a good thing when daddy approaches her with a. laundry basket; b. thick magazine; c. sofa cushion; d. a big grin on his face. She’ll try to run away while sweeping her tail from side to side wildly as if to say, “Daddy, please let me go.” If I am in sight, she’ll cast sideway glances my way, “Mommy help!”

But because of Libby’s unwillingness to throw a big fuss in order to defend herself, Jason always wins. Then Libby will have this resigned look on her face and remains motionless for the remainder of the torture session as if by doing that time can somehow pass quicker.

Of course I am also guilty of taking the picture instead of rescuing my baby from Jaosn's clutches.

My Picky Dog

Do other dogs get pickier as they age? Mine certainly does. She used to gulp down her food so fast I was afraid she would choke. Ok, maybe having Jack constantly eyeing her food was the main factor. But now, it takes her forever to finish a meal, and she always insists on company while she eats. Don’t even think about setting the food dish down in the kitchen and go back to watching TV. If I want to watch TV while Princess Libby eats, I’d have to move her to the living room with me. However, this only applies to dry dog food, which leads me to think that it just may be that she’s too lazy to chew?



Look at these delicious homemade dog cookies. They are made of 100% whole-wheat flour, with a healthy dose of beef and carrots added. When they were baking in the oven, Jason mistook the wonderful aroma for a meat dish and asked what we were having for dinner. Libby used to love them when I last made them for her when she was about 3 years old. Now, three years later (I know, I am ashamed to admit that I hadn’t baked her anything for three years) she has completely lost interest. When I gave one to her, she dropped it on the floor, looked at it, and then looked back up at me to see if I had anything better to offer. Only after making sure that there wasn’t any steak coming her way did she turn her attention back to the cookie. And she ate it reluctantly, like she was only doing it to please me. What really bothered me was that she didn’t even chew it, like a dog is supposed to. After breaking it into two pieces, she swallowed each half whole! Why can’t my own dog appreciate my cooking? Could it be because she just didn't want to chew it?Maybe next time I should try making doggie cakes and see what her reaction would be.

Libby II

I read about this company (Genetics Savings and Clone) that clones cats commercially. It’s the company that cloned Cc, but only 9 cats were cloned in 2004, due to capacity limits. They hope to perfect the technology to clone dogs in 2005. Right now, the going price for a cat is $50,000. I wonder how much they’ll charge for a dog.

Am a little fuzzy on the details of exactly how they clone an animal, but according to the CEO, Lou Hawthorne, it involves lots of donor eggs. He says that his company is the largest underwriter of spaying clinics in the US, and they buy the eggs, which would’ve been thrown out as waste anyway. The clinics use the money to spay more strays. Sounds good to me! Or is it just that I am willing to believe anything so I can harbor even a glimpse of hope that when my sweet Libby goes to doggie heaven, I can replace her with a clone? And the image of Sigouney Weaver seeing all the failed clones of herself in Alien 3 haunts me too. I am not so naïve in thinking that they’ll have 100% success rate so they only start with one egg. So what about the ones that don’t work out? Funny thing is, I am pro-choice, but I just can’t stand the thoughts of half-developed Libby embryos or fetuses being thrown out as trash. I guess it really is different when it comes to your own baby.

Jason, on the other hand, is curious as to what Libby’s reaction will be if she were to see her own clone. I wonder if the clone will have the same scent signature as the original. That’ll probably confuse the heck out of Libby.

All I Want for Xmas is My Baby's Two Front Teeth

Her two front teeth, her two front teeth
Gee, if I could only have her two front teeth
Then I could wish you, "Merry Christmas"

I am such a bad mummy (dejected sigh).
My baby has lost another front tooth and I don't even know when!

She broke one of her upper front teeth a long time ago, but just this week, I noticed that another one is broken clean in half. It had to have been within this week because last week when I checked it was still intact. But when did she do that? Could it be from the bones that I gave her to chew? (unlike most dogs who chew bones with molars, she likes to nip on them with her front teeth) Or did it happen when she try to catch a frisbee? Although I can maybe get away with not feeding her bones, I cannot stand to take away the frisbee from her! It's only her second favorite activity, next to swimming, and I already don't take her swimming enough.

Science Diet, what are you not doing enough to strenghen the teeth of my baby?!

My Dog Libby

This is the pride and joy of my life.

These couple of days though, she's been driving me a little crazy. She would plop herself down in front of me when I'm watching TV and demand that I pay attention to her. I think it's a sign that she's lonely spending the whole day all by herself. I think she's trying to tell me that I should quit my job and spend more time with her.