It's a new year!!! The year of the WAN-WAN.

Let's let out a giant WHOOOOOOP for the New Year, 2006, also known as the year of the Dog. Congrats to all you dogs out there - it's your year. You'd be a dog if you were born in: 1922, 1934, 1946, 1958, 1970, 1982, 1994, 2006.

Most of you are probably familiar with bow-bow, bark bark, or woof woof...though I'll bet you a million dol....er, I mean, sesame seeds that you've never heard of "wan wan." Have you? It seems that Japan has different pet sound onomatopoeias. bow-wow is wan-wan... meow meow is nya nya...and so on.

_________ exerpt below was taken from a website about the Chinese zodiac
People born in the Year of the Dog possess the best traits of human nature. They have a deep sense of loyalty, are honest, and inspire other people¡¦s confidence because they know how to keep secrets. But Dog People are somewhat selfish, terribly stubborn, and eccentric. They care little for wealth, yet somehow always seem to have money. They can be cold emotionally and sometimes distant at parties. They can find fault with many things and are noted for their sharp tongues. Dog people make good leaders. They are compatible with those born in the Years of the Horse, Tiger, and Rabbit.

I used to have a chow-chow dog named Lady Lee. Ha ha, not such an original name I suppose but it did have a nice ring to it. This lassy had silky soft jet-black hair and a trademark blue-purple-black tongue. She was the most loyal companion (and house guard dog) one could ever ask for. When I went to school she delivered me to the end of our 'Great Wall of China-like length' driveway. When I came home, she was waiting for me at the bus stop ready to escort me back. Sometimes when I went to church just a walk up the road, she'd come with me just to make sure I wouldn't get into trouble. She was my fellow hiking buddy as we often trudged through marshy areas behind my house. Though her breed is not known for hunting, Lady was a fantastic rabbit and bunny catcher. I sometimes scolded her for her overambitious hunting pursuits. I definitely have to say that I'm more of a dog than a cat person. I often ask people if they are a dog or cat person. I think it says a lot about their own character and what kind of person they're looking for in life.

All this talk about dogs reminds me of the Shibuya's Hachiko, Japan's most famous and faithful dog. This dog had an owner whom was a professor at the Imperial University. Every day the dog would greet his master (tail wagging, eyes sparkling) at the station exit. On a fateful day, less than two years later, the professor failed to show up at the station. He had fallen ill and passed away. The dog was unaware of this and continued his daily trips to the station for another ten years. Each day Hachiko got scragglier and dirtier and some locals would feed him food scraps and so on. Sometimes poor Hachiko got trampled over by crowds during rush hour. (If you've ever been to Shibuya, you know what a real zoo it can be!) Finally one day Hachiko died on the very same spot they used to meet. What a sad yet inspirational story of loyalty.

The story of Hachiko contains a hint of Confucian values - the dog's master passed away but the dog did not warm up to a new owner. Similiarly, when a master passes away, the retainer is supposed to continue living to serve his master's honor or get revenge if necessary. This is a common theme of Japanese kabuki and traditional theatre. The last example: if a woman's husband passes away, she's not likely to even consider getting remarried because she wants to preserve the dignity and memory of her late husband. It is kind of hard to explain but now that I think of it, looking at all the examples around me, it seems true that significantly less Asian widows remarry. In the same sense, many of my Japanese friends don't want to get another dog because they used to have a dog and it passed away. They feel that if they get another dog a few things could happen: a) they'd compare it too much to the previous dog b) when the next dog passes away, it would bring more pain c) they want to cherish the sweet memories of their former dog.

Now a statue of Hachiko sits outside the entrance of Shibuya Station and remains a great place to meet up with friends. When meeting my Tokyo friends, it's not uncommon to hear, "Let's meet up by Hachiko, okay?"