A Dog Without Leash

Winifred BIRD

One balmy night in the summer of 2006, I, my fiancé Keita, several friends and our dog Lip made the 20-minute drive from our house to Kumano Beach, Mie prefecture. We were headed out to watch the world-class fireworks show that the city hosts each year.

As we settled down on a patch of pebbly sand amid thousands of other spectators, I worried that perhaps Lip wouldn’t enjoy the fireworks display as much as us humans. As it turned out, there was no need to worry about Lip. She spent most of the evening facing away from the water, oblivious to the spectacular showers of light raining above her head.

A pair of stylish 20-something women seated a few feet from us also had their attention focused on something other than the show, our dog! After luring Lip over to their blanket with coos and pets, they spent at least 20 minutes arranging a cellphone photoshoot with her, parting reluctantly only as the show ended and the crowds headed home.

It wasn’t an unusual occurrence. Wherever Keita and I go, our dog gets far more attention than we do. I suppose one reason is that with orange-gold fur, pointy ears, a curly tail, and a gently smiling face, she’s a lot cuter than either of us.

Her tendency to flop over for a pat from any and every likely admirer also wins her many friends. The other reason she gets noticed though, is that she’s not often wearing a leash. That’s unusual in Japan.

But my fiancé is not your usual Japanese man. When he adopted Lip 11 years ago he made a pact with her. “If you listen to what I say,” he told her, “I promise that I’ll never tie you up or put you on a leash.” When I ask him why he made that decision, he replies that “she just had that kind of face. I believed I could raise her to be the kind of dog people aren’t afraid of.” A lot of training and many years later, they are still holding up their bargain.

Their first seven years together they spent on a rice and vegetable farm, so not using a leash was easy. Lip passed her days guarding mouse holes and cooling off in rice-paddy water-ways, adored by friends and neighbours. But three years ago they moved to Matsusaka, where I joined them a year later.

An off-leash dog in the city, we soon discovered, wasn’t always looked upon fondly. Most of our neighbors kept their dogs chained up outside all day or worse, penned in tiny cages. Although many younger people wanted to our dog, older people occasionally crossed the street to avoid her or frowned to see her strolling the neighbourhood rice paddies unleashed.

Keeping dogs leashed in public places is the norm in American cities, too. But in the countryside a dog walking unleashed beside its owner isn’t an unusual sight. Dogs have long enjoyed a position as “Man’s Best Friend,” welcomed as part of the family. They accompany us shopping and jogging and even sometimes sleep at the foot of our beds. So when I first came to Japan, I was confused by the different relationship between people and their dogs I found here.

It seems that there are two contrasting strains of dog-human interaction in Japan. On the one hand is the attitude, still prevalent in rural areas, that dogs are guard animals. They are kept chained up, not allowed into the house, and regarded with wariness if not fear. Of course, this fear creates its own vicious cycle, since chained and beaten animals often become hostile towards humans, leading to increased fear on the part of the humans.

Yet on the other hand, I discovered the trend towards treating dogs as pampered, adored family members or even status symbols. Attitudes towards dogs are changing rapidly, especially in larger cities. According to one New York Times article, the number of pet dogs in Japan has doubled over the past ten years, and dogs now outnumber children under twelve.

On the one hand there exist penned up guard dogs that never put a paw inside the house. On the other, dog cafes, designer dog clothing, dog retirement homes, and dog hotels. How did it all fit together? Japan seemed to interact with its dogs on two emotional extremes, neither of which matched the way I’d grown up thinking of dogs in America.

According to Animal Refuge Kansai (or ARK), dogs in Japan before World War II were often off-leash. Take the famous story of Hachiko. For ten years after his master died, the dog continued to go to the station every day in hope of meeting him. The story only makes sense if we assume Hachiko was an off-leash dog!

After the war, efforts to improve public health and safety led to stricter control of dogs, according to ARK. Many were killed to control rabies, and fear of dogs increased. Recently it’s become fashionable to treat dogs as pets and once again attitudes are changing. Understanding this history helped me sympathize with the people who shy away from our dog, no matter how cute and gentle she may be.

Now, Keita, Lip, and I live in a small town in the far south-western corner of Mie Prefecture. Our house is the last on a gravel road surrounded by citrus orchards. Lip is free to bask in the sun of the front yard and, if she’s lucky, have an occasional romp after monkeys in the nearby forest. The neighbours have taken to her as well. It looks like Keita and Lip will be able to keep their pact of leashless-ness till the end after all.

Text: Winifred BIRD

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