I'm So Tired

I'm going to combine two days today....  mostly because, well...

It's Wednesday, August 21, 1991 here in Ohtawara-shi, Tochigi-ken, Japan. Today, is the first time I've been alone in about a month or more.

I've always been a bit of a loner. Sure I enjoy company, but I also like being able to just be by myself... you know, to just be.

The past 13 months here in Japan have been hectic. I've had a girlfriend or 12 since first arriving, drunk more booze than I had ever done in my first 25-1/2 years, eaten a lot of strange, but wonderful foods, and have had the time of my life. I've had girlfriends, stalkers, uninvited visitors, visitors, strange phone calls, learned how to cook, clean, do laundry and iron.

Of course, today being the first time I've been alone in so long, I'm still sick... I picked up the runs while in Thailand. Never ever have an drink (of Coke) containing ice cubes. Sure... perhaps do so at a good hotel or restaurant, but I had mine up near the Burma border in a small podunk of a village. Mistake.

That was eight days ago. I am still sick, but just not so bad. Perhaps it's because I'm not eating.

I do a load of laundry (the medicine for my mind), do some rough drafts of It's A Wonderful Rife for the Tochigi-ken JET (Japan Exchange & Teaching) Programme monthly newsletter I am the editor for (The Tatami Times) - I haven't written in a while, and it makes me feel antsy.

Pretty cool huh? I feel antsy because I haven't written, while a mere three years ago, the thought of being a writer/journalist was the farthest thing from my mind. Japan? I never thought about that until a year and a half a go. Never knew I wanted to work or live or even visit there. Strange old world we live in, eh?

I laze around all day long hoping that Mathew or Ashley will phone. Ashley is my ex, and current friend-with-benefits. She arrived back in Japan yesterday evening (she's jet-lagged, I'm sure) (I wonder if she realizes I stocked her fridge for her so she'd have food and drink when she got back, realizing that she'd be too tired to go out shopping? Probably not.)

Matthew calls at 3PM, and we small talk. Despite being a loner, it's good to hear other people's voices - and Matthew has been a god-send for me. Considering the other people on JET who hate each other and never do anything with each other even though they live in the same town or city, I really lucked in.

I go to sleep for a few hours and ignore Kanemaru-san's frantic ringing of my doorbell at 6PM when he comes to take me to kyudo (Japanese archery) practice. I love Kanemaru-san. He's my boss at the Ohtawara Board of Education, but I really don't like kyudo. I just don't want to disappoint him by quitting.. but at least I have an excuse this evening... I'm sick.

And what is with the Japanese ability to not understand that someone is unavailable.... I mean ringing the doorbell 30 times? It's a 3-bedroom apartment... if I don't get to you after four rings, I'm either not home, having sex or dead! And the telephone... a gaijin (foreigner) will call and hang-up after seven rings or so... a Nihonjin (Japanese person) will let it ring 20 or 30 times. Granted, they are correct - I am home, but maybe I don't want to be bothered. When I do get calls I ignore, it's because I am sick or boinking a woman—two excellent reasons not to answer the door or telephone. I've never been sick of boinking a woman, though with Kristine here the last few days, I was actually to sick to boink.

Man... I had it all planned out! Right to when she left for home, I had Ashley back. Stupid ice cubes.

The dysentery is taking its toll. I feel lighter, but not skinnier. My stomach is puffing out. I could be a poster boy for starving kids.

I sit and watch videos late into the night while feeling sorry for myself.

Twenty years later, I would just say to 1991 Andrew... "You idiot! You're in Japan!  You've had more sex in 13 months than some people have in a lifetime! Plus a three-way! Plus sex with a stalker! Do you know who has sex with a stalker? A man does! Men are idiots. Now stop feeling sorry for yourself and enjoy the day! You're in Japan and the opportunity may never come your way again!"

Of course, my yelling at 1991 Andrew doesn't change the fact that he still has some growing up to do.

It's Thursday, August 22, 1991.

I get up and do some of my puzzle of The Tower of Babel... a 5000 piece one that is being more difficult to do than the one I did of the Universe (all black with little white splotches for stars).

I wish someone would call. You'll notice I don't call anyone. Idiot.

Teh pills Kristine gave me a couple of days ago are only partially working. That means they aren't. As such, I threaten myself into going into work and ask to be taken in to a doctor. But I don't. It's not just a Japanese doctor thing. I never like doctors - period.

"Well, Andrew... what seems to be wrong?
"I don't know. Isn't that your job?"

Here with a language barrier, it's worse. Not only do doctors smoke in hospitals - what is this the 1950s? - but every medicine I have ever received from a hospital comes in a waxy envelope the size of a disposable razor blade... do people in 2011 still know what a disposable razor blade is? HERE.

No one calls, and I don't call anyone. It's literally the first time since arriving in Japan that I don't talk to another human being. I did yell at the dog across the street to shut up - I even yelled it in Japanese! - but he ignored me.

And what about Ashley? Is she still jetlagged? Doesn't she want to see me? What about thanking me for the food? It's okay... Y10,000 (Cdn/US $100) of food is no big deal. That was sarcasm. How do you write sarcasm in print? Italics?

Somewhere with too much time on my hands,
Andrew Joseph
Today's blog title is by The Beatles: I told you I could do them for every mood!: NOZZZZZZZ

You're My Best Friend

Okay... you want to see the most amazing video of humanity? Well, that's hyperbole, but the video below is just amazing.

It's something we, as human beings, should all strive for.

Have a look and get some TISSUES. 

Have you watched it yet? Pretty damn amazing.

Just so you know, the announcer is talking about how the one dog won't leave his injured friend alone... how it is chasing everyone away. I'm guessing it was pretty spooked after the quake and tsunami and that it lost a lot of trust in people (though I 100% believe that wasn't anyone's fault!).

And... just so you know, the dogs were both rescued and taken to the same veterinary hospital. Initial reports say both will be okay.

This blog was just to remind us that despite the awful toll on human life, we aren't the only creatures on this planet affected by natural disasters.

Somewhere man's best friend has another best friend,
Andrew Joseph
Today's blog title is by Queen: The lyrics are so fitting: FRIENDS

Heart Shaped Box

Seventy-five years after his death, scientists say they have determinedwhat killed Hachiko, the legendary Akita whose story has beenimmortalized in his native Japan and the rest of the world.Japan's most famous dog - though rumors have persisted for decades thatworms did him in, or that he swallowed a chicken skewer that rupturedhis stomach - had heart and lung cancer, scientists now say.Hachiko became legendary for the loyalty he showed by waiting for hisowner every day at a train station - for 10 years after his masterdied.

Here's the background story:

In 1924, Ueno Hidesaburo, a professor at the University of Tokyo adopted an Akita dog he called Hachiko.

I guess back in those days, the station wasn't as busy as it is now, because the dog used meet him at Shibuya-eki (station) every day in the evening.

Everyday that is, until May 1925 when the professor suffered a cerebral hemorrhage and died.

But... and here's the sad thing - for nine years, that damn dog would come back to Shibuya-eki in the evening to wait for his master.

Even though another family adopted Hachiko the dog, he would escape and make his way to the station and wait patiently for his master that would never return. 

Soon, other commuters noticed this dog - and would feed him during his wait.

When he died, a statue was erected for Hachiko at the station. It's there to this day (although I believe a new version was recently erected).  

Damn... that's a beautiful story. I once waited there for an hour for a girl. Nobody gave me food.

 Somewhere realizing my dog would quickly get bored and follow the first person home who had food,
Andrew Joseph 

Today's title is by Nirvana: CANCER

Giving The Dog A Bone

I'm bone-tired today, but I'm still thinking about Japan for us...

I don't know if any of you saw the small piece done up by Reuters, that appeared in the Reuters Life! section, on Friday November 19, 2010 and again in 24HR, a weekday newspaper available in Toronto on Monday, November 22, 2010, but I thought you'd get a kick out of it, so I'm passing it along.

This is how it appears in Reuters:

Japan's newest police dog -- all 3 kg (6.6 lb) of her.
In what is a first for Japan and perhaps the world, a long-haired Chihuahua named "Momo" -- "Peach" -- passed exams to become a police dog in the western Japanese prefecture of Nara.
The brown-and-white, perky Momo was one of 32 successful candidates out of 70 dogs, passing a search and rescue test by finding a person in five minutes after merely sniffing their cap.
"Any breed of dog can be entered to become a police dog in the search and rescue division," said a Nara police spokesman.
But he admitted that news a Chihuahua had been entered may still come as a surprise to many.
"It's quite unusual," he said.
Television footage showed the 7-year-old Momo bounding across grass or sitting proudly, long hair blowing in the breeze.
Momo will be used for rescue operations in case of disasters such as earthquakes, in the hope that she may be able to squeeze her tiny frame into places too narrow for more usual rescue dogs, which tend to be German Shepherds.
The public response to the news of Momo's selection took police by surprise, the spokesman said, adding: "The phone's been ringing all afternoon."
(Reporting by Elaine Lies; editing by Paul Casciato

Pretty cool, huh? I never saw a chihuahua while in Japan, but I would be naive to assume they weren't there. But a chihuahua as a police dog? I know space is at a premium in many Japanese cities (especially Tokyo), but I never would have thought about utilizing a toy dog in the police force. 

I just have this mental image of chihuahua's shivering in the 30C cold because they are always cold... or sitting in some celebutante's (my made-up word - I think - celebrity and debutante) handbag or purse!

I'm getting more upset at my chocolate labrador Buster as I write this. Still... despite me having written negative things about dogs in Japan, I would have loved to have had one... but, of course, it wouldn't have been fair to the critter when it was time for me to leave.

Actually... I never thought about getting a dog while there - or a cat (though I did have one for a bit), and just stuck with goldfish - figuring it was easier to get rid of the evidence should they, you know, accidentally die while I was around.

I know the Japanese have been famous for taking existing technology and making it smaller, but this chihuahua police dog takes the cake - no, wait... my dog Buster just snatched it from its maw.

Somewhere in the peach pits,
Andrew Joseph
Today's title is brought to you by AC/DC: GIVING THE DOG A BONE
The photo was scanned from 24HR

Parallel Lines (& Other Non Sequitors)

Anyone who lives in any one place for awhile tends to start over-looking many of the things which would have previously shocked them. Fortunately for me, after a year-plus in Ohtawara (just the other side of Erehwon), that hasn't happened to me yet--or maybe it has and I just haven't noticed it. Oh well, no use in crying over o-cha (green tea) that may or may not already have been spilled.

Some of the things which continue to baffle the heck out of me are the parallel lines   that dissect every main thoroughfare of every city in Japan. I am, of course, talking (writing!) (whatever!) about the crosswalks.

According to Japanese traffic laws, a car must come to a complete stop to allow any person who is standing at a crosswalk, to cross. In my 13 months here, I've not once seen a car stop to allow anyone standing patiently at a crosswalk to cross. In fact, I've actually observed cars I've been in speed-up when they approach these designated crossing areas so they can pretend there wasn't enough time to stop.

Another observation: at a flashing yellow and red light, I've seen the cars that are supposed to stop, continue making the ones that don't have to stop, stop. I've actually tried to explain things to my driving companions, but I usually only get a "Honto?" (really?) or a smile that says, "Y'know, I really didn't know that one, and I'm forgetting you mentioned it now."

How about the dog owner? He like animals - just not in his house. After all, we can't have the little bugger messing up the grass tatami mats that make up our floor. And besides, since Japanese houses are often considered too small for people, where are you going to put the dog? The answer is, usually, outside. Yup. What lucky pup wouldn't pull at his choke chain to be afforded the luxury of his very own patch of stone and dirt with a total absence of that annoying soft and cool grass to lie upon? Ah, what's a dog to do? Well, according to the three (three??!!) miniature  collies that now surround my apartment complex, there is always the barking option. Woof. Talk about Three Dog Night.

Another confusing aspect of Japan is why the most preferred colour for an automobile is white. I asked around a bit and got numerous explanations. "White cars are easier to see in the night." was a popular answer. Sure, but if you have your headlights on, it shouldn't mater what colour the car is as you'll still be able to see it. Another explanation has it that for some reason "Ten years ago, white cars gave us a higher re-sale value." Okay, but why and what about nowadays? A final explanation on why white cars are so popular is: "White is pure, and we all want to be pure." Uh, yeah.

I would suppose even the most casual observer of life in Japan would have noticed the absence of common critters like squirrels. Although it could be argued that there aren't enough trees to support their habitat, there certainly are enough nuts.

Hey... you don't suppose all of the squirrels were killed trying to cross the road?

Somewhere waiting at a crosswalk,
Andrew Joseph
PS - Today's title is not by Three Dog Night, but rather by Blondie. In the liner notes for Blondie's Parallel Lines vinyl album (which, along with Pink Floyd's The Wall, it's the first album I ever bought with my own money) there are lyrics listed for a Parallel Lines song, though no such song exists on the album. The lyrics, written by Debbie Harry, are:

The lines I have written that you read between
The lines on the pages
The lines on the screen
Of lines spoken - I say what I mean.
It's parallel lines that will never meet

Ship in the desert
Ships in the night
Ships that pass in the night

Evangeline stream - Evangeline's dream,
It's parallel lines that will never meet.
But just in case you need a song to listen to, here's one of the first ever rap songs - called Rapture.

HELP

See Masahiro run.
See Kimiko run.
See Naoko welcome you.
See Kazuo welcome you.
See Chieko do more for you than you asked.
See the pretty little people wearing their pretty little uniform uniforms.
See Pochi bark and wake-up Andrew.
The above sentences aptly describe a visit to any Japanese service-oriented area--with perhaps the exception of Pochi the dog... even though it's true, too.
The wonderful thing about Japan is that the so-called 'services' sector in the West is an honest description here. For those of us having visited a store in Japan, you'll not find one instance of a worker there bowing and scraping and welcoming us into the establishment they work for.
Where else but Japan could a person walk by a gas service station and hear happy little workers run and welcome customers in polite shouts--complete with modern Japanese rock music playing in the background. After asking how much fuels is needed, the station attendants begin, in teams, to check: the oil; tires; antifreeze; empty the full to over-flowing ashtrays; and clean every speck of glass on the car and any the driver might be wearing. After servicing both driver and car, they then clear a path for easy access onto the road. A person doesn't even ned to ask for these services.
Yosh, sumimasen (hey, excuse me). Restaurants and bars are an experience not to be missed, as most readers of this blog seem to like their al-key-hall. Folks in these industries run all over the place quickly getting you food and drinks and actually seem happy about it.
TIPS... it's an acronym meaning "To Insure Prompt Service". Tips are not a part of the Japanese vocabulary. Now recall the folks were you live. Remember how the waiters won't let you out the door unless the tip you may or may not have left met with everybody's satisfaction?
I can still picture those fine eating establishments where you have to tip the guy who opened your car door, the guy who parked your car, the hat and coat-check girl, bribed the maître d' to admit he hadn't lost your your dining reservation, the guy who brings you the food you may have ordered, and the guy bringing your car back around so you can finally leave.
In Japan, if you leave money on the table for their good work, they promptly run after you. When your car finally stops at a red light, they politely knock on your window, bow deeply while extending their arms straight out to you holding the money you must have mistakenly left behind, apologize for disturbing your red light, bow and bow again before leaving for that jog back to the restaurant.
And what of the banks? All of the women who work servicing customers--they are ALL women--look sooooo cute in their pretty little uniforms and aesthetically similar hair - smiling and gesturing and trying to get all of your banking done for you, even though you are in the wrong line.
And then there are the plethora of bicycle repair shops that dot the landscape. Sure Japan has a lot of bikes, but surely it doesn't need a 1 to 1 ratio of repair shop to bicycle? How do they make enough money to survive? On one occasion, a shop fixed my light, patched a flat and straightened a tire - in 10 minutes.  Back home it might or might not be ready for you on Monday, but you can pick it up on Wednesday because Tuesday is when we're playing golf, and when you do, bring a long your credit card and several bank statements to prove you can afford the charge. In Japan, it cost me ¥500 (yen) which is only $5.64 Canadian. The guy only asked for ¥200 ($2.25), but it just didn't seem right, and I didn't wish to take advantage of my minor celebrity status.

Somewhere enjoying the good life - except for that darn dog,
Andrew Joseph
Today's title is by The Beatles. On their 1965 HELP album,  the British Parlophone cover (see photo on top) shows the Beatles using their hands in flag semaphore letters to spell out H-E-L-P. Except it doesn't. The U.S. Capitol Records release (see photo above my signature) has the lads standing in different positions, but it too doesn't spell HELP. The UK version spells; N-U-J-V, while the US version spells N-V-U-J.
HELP, I can't spell.

A Day In The Life

Contrary to one of the more popular Beatles songs, it's not so easy to just wake-up and get out of bed here - at least here in Japan.

Every morning I get up at 6AM. Not because I want to, or have to, or because my alarm goes off, but rather because yet another one of my neighbourhood dogs thinks its time for everybody to get up.

It's one of those stupid, little miniature collies that, as a species, have a cumulative brain the size of an shelled walnut. Of course, a major portion of the blame should be directed at the dog's owners who so thoughtlessly toss the poor stupid creature out at the ungodly hour of 6AM and don't let it in until 7:30AM when it's time for them (ie the man) to leave for work.

Sure there may actually be some well-behaved and intelligent miniature collies, though the only ones I've ever heard of roam the Plains of the Serengeti with their cousins the Poodles-with-Good-Haircuts, which is a dying breed. Now this particular collie is obviously not from Africa. It has papers denoting its lineage, but it's piddled on them. Repeatedly. This dog is just plain stupid. It barks at nothing. It barks at rocks. It barks at parked white cars. It barks at the cold morning air. It barks at tree bark, or at least it would if the Japanese actually had any trees in their backyards that weren't dwarfed bonsai trees (which is redundant).

Going out of my mind every morning, I have tried everything to make it stop barking: like reasoning with it - "Shut up or I'll kill you, ya stupid mutt!!!"; feeding it - "Suck on this, you bastard!" I politely scream as I toss an egg at it; bribing it - "Please shut-up and I'll buy you a nice steak."

Although the dog has a brain the size of a pecan (I have revised my opinion after seeing a feline give it a CAT scan - I even saw the Lab(rador) report), this dog knows (somehow) that I would never be able to afford a steak here in Japan. It's stupid, not crazy.

On this particular day, I get up at the aforementioned appointed hour. I stumble over to the toilet and read the newspaper that I got while you were reading this sentence. Suddenly the air around me is rend by multiple explosions: BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! It happens again. BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! and again 30 seconds later, BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Apparently that's the local farmers shooting some form of concussive bomb into the air to frighten away the birds that would eat their rice crop if there were any currently planted. It's the middle of bloody February, and there ain't nothing growin' nowhere, nohow. Hmmm, so maybe it's not the farmers. Maybe someone is trying to kill that damn dog. Yeah! Ha-ha! Give'em another!

BARK-BARK-BARK-BARK! Dammit... they must have missed.

A few minutes pass, and then a siren begins to blare. As it draws closer, it drowns out the dog's incessant barking. Louder! LOUDER!! BARK-Bark-Ba-Pee-Pon-Pee-Pon-Pee-PON! It sounds like an ambulance. Ha! Maybe somebody has shot the dog's owner!!

Then, as if on cue, there's a screech of tires, followed by the sound of crunching plastic(!!), as two white cars plow into each other to avoid yet another miniature collie that has wandered out into the street. The stray waddles over to the bereft-of-grass-yard where my bane lives and begins to bark at it. BARK! BARK! BARK-BARK!! They start to have an argument. BARK! BARK! BARK-BARK!!BARK! BARK! BARK-BARK!!

Brains the size of a shelled, half-peanut. Dry roasted.

The two women get out of their cars and begin bowing apologetically to each other, but still in my mind, they do it LOUDLY!!

The ambulance - PEE-PON!! PEE-PON!!! wheels around the corner and SREEEECHES!!!! to a halt as it is now unable to pass by the fresh accident where the two women continue to bow apologetically. And LOUDER!!!!!

The ambulance driver curses the two women. BAKAYARO!!!!! (stupid idiots!!!!!) And then continues his ranting at the stray miniature collie that has just relieved itself on the ambulance's front tire. Both of THEM!!!!!! The ambulance can no longer back up as a long line of white cars has appeared out of nowhere to trap it from behind - just below my apartment. The car horns begin to blare. HONK! HONK!! HONK!!! The air cannons fire up. BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! A cacophony of barking continues. BARK! BARK! BARK-BARK!! BARK! BARK! BARK-BARK!! WOOF!!! A lone stray miniature collie piddles noisily on everything white. It's only 6:45AM.

Somewhere, somebody spoke and I went into a SCREAM!!!!!
Andrew Joseph   

Brought to you by The Beatles with accompanying cartoon by Gary Larson, The Far Side and one of his books I own.

Would I Lie To You?

Thursday, November 1, 1990

It’s freezing outside, with a light frost on the ground. I’m still at Sakuyama Junior High School doing team teaching with the charming and witty teacher (sensei) Mrs. Sekiya.
I do a self-introduction in the teacher’s office to all of the teachers using my photos. It’s not the first time I hear the word sukebe (pervert), nor the last – as I show them a photo of three women friends I say are my girlfriends (hey, they’re female and friends…).
A second-year student (Grade 8) named Tomahiro stops by to talk with me in broken English and Japanese (I’m confused in two languages now).  He’s a bit of pain in the butt, but it’s apparent he just needs a friend. Guess who got elected? I like him – and when other nerdy kids see me talking to him, they come over one at a time. It’s like each nerd was too afraid to make friends with the other nerds. Silly nerds… there is always strength in numbers. It’s funny how they congregate around me… like they know I used to be one of them (used to?!) Now, I’m King of the Nerds, ma! I play volleyball with my new loyal subjects and have a good time.
It’s now 1PM and its super hot outside where we are playing volleyball. By the way, you ever see a lot of short nerds and their king play volleyball? It’s spas-tastic.
It’s an Indian Summer Day. The school’s vice-principal asks me why I call it that – so not wanting to look stupid, I answer: it’s because the colours of Fall are like those of an American Indian’s war paint – bright and warm, like a summer’s day. I don’t know what it means… it probably made sense to me then. It almost sounds plausible, eh? Hmm, not I understand the need to create bad English in Japanese advertising.
After school, I listen to the English Club (the only school I know to have an English Club!) perform Snow White. They seem surprised when I mention that Dopey doesn’t talk, and even more shocked when I say that they have to act like their dwarvish namesakes. Because the girl who played Snow White was sick, I take the role over and make it mine, complete with falsetto voice.
I head home at 5:30. Ashely is there and is in a better mood. So am I? King of the nerds, et al. We watch an episode of The Simpson’s and Quantum Leap. Our friend Naoko comes over to have dinner.
The lady from across the street comes by the place at 8PM  - with her yappy dog – to tell me about an upcoming festival. She begs me to come and play the clarinet (I guess she heard me practicing with the windows open). I don’t want to do it. Nerd shyness and all… but I do want to kill her dog.
Naoko doesn’t think she wants me to play at the festival this Saturday, but I’m not convinced.
Panic kicks in and I down five glasses of wine. I’m toast. Thank good ness everyone leaves at 8:30. I laze about watching The Osterman Weekend until 11PM and finally hit the hay at midnight.
Somewhere trying to come up with an excuse,
Andrew Joseph

Birthday

Today, in 2010, November 8 is my birthday.
My first birthday in Japan was spent like this:
I was watching an old television show called THUNDERBIRDS. It was all in Japanese, but I recall watching it in English when I was a wee brat in England.
Yes, they made a crappy live-action movie in the 2000s - but back in the 60s, Gerry Anderson was churning out marionette tv shows - hitting gold with Thunderbirds. How popular were the Thunderbirds? My students thought it was cool - and there was even a Nintendo video game for them - all in Japanese, unfortunately.
I was also able to buy a myself a model kit of the vehicles for  3000 yen ($30) - see above. Yes, it's sad but true - I still have the box.
I suddenly felt a stirring in my brain as I espied a female "puppet" who seemed familiar. A few minutes of patience bore me out - it was Tin-Tin... she was the girlfriend of Alan Tracy (hero), and the daughter of the servant, Kyrano, to the Tracy family - who happened to be the brother of their arch foe, The Hood.
As a child I was so smitten by this charmingly beautiful marionette (CLICK HERE) that in 1967 I named the best present I ever got from my folks after her. She was a Blue Roan English Cocker Spaniel - and she was and is beautiful... the gold standard that every one of my subsequent dogs has had to measured against - and despite all being fantastic creatures in their own right, still managed to pale in comparison.
A phone call home was inevitable.
By the way, Tin-Tin is Malaysian for 'Sweet'... but in Japanese, due to the fact that there is no "Ti" alphabet, they use "Chi"... so we get Chin-Chin - which might be a form of 'cheers' when drinking, but in Japanese it happens to be slang for 'penis'.
I didn't tell my students about my dog's name. 
Somewhere, F.A.B. (Full Acknowledgment of Broadcast)
Andrew Joseph
PS - Thanks to my recent move, I can't find a photo of Tin-Tin. But I have the model kit box. Go figure.
PPS: Title by The Beatles

Black Dog

Dog I’m bored.
I wish I had something to do and someone to do it with. I’d even settle for some pesky flies, but no, it’s raining so they’ve all gone inside the house. Lucky them. I hate the rain.
The human who said ‘It’s a dog’s life’ in reference to our Zen-like existence must have had worms, ‘cause it really sucks.
I have no friends. No one plays with me. No one talks to me… well not really. I’m a German Shepard and I don’t understand their Japanese when they do talk.
Nothing to do but try and annoy that foreigner across the street with my… what did he call it? Incessant, bloody barking. Arf.
I just want him to talk with me. It works, too. He screams all sorts of things at me from his balcony. Of course, I don’t understand everything because he doesn’t speak German, and as I said, I’m a German Shepard.
Sometimes he even throws things to me. I caught an egg once. I missed the other 23 times as it often hit me about my head and body, but he was always willing to try again when I barked my encouragement.
I like him. I’d bark to him now, but I saw him leave his apartment. Dog, I’m bored.
I remember a long time ago… yesterday, I think, when he came over to talk with my Master. I guess that makes me his slave. Anyhow, I think they were talking about me. The foreigner was making barking noises like a Rottweiler. I understood him, because those are German dogs. He said he had three of those dogs.
The foreigner said, “My dog has no nose.” Master asked, “How does he smell?” The foreigner said, “Awful.” Master bowed and said, “Mine, too.”
If he doesn’t like it, why doesn’t he give me a bath? If I were his white car, I would get a bath every week. Lazy. I guess that’s why I’m out in the rain now. It really doesn’t do that great a job as anybody who has smelled a wet dog or aardvark will testify. Dog, I’m bored.
Hey! Is Master looking at me? Probably not. I wonder what it’s like in the house? I can’t even begin to imagine what must be in there. Black and white splendour, I suppose. I wonder when they are going to feed me? I hope it isn’t that cold shiokara (squid guts) again. That stuff smells worse than I do! Dog, I’m bored.
Uh oh! I’ve got an itch! Hmmmmmmm. Rrrrrrrrrrr. I can’t scratch it or nip at it. I guess I’ll have to roll on the ground. Verdammen Sie es! (dammit!) I hate that! I guess I’ll have to pick a piece of ground with the fewest number of rocks on it… over there! There’s only eleventeen… Now I’ve got to be careful. I don’t want to strangle myself again with this stupid short chain about my neck. Oh wait! Here comes that foreigner on his over-sized novelty bicycle. I’ll bark at him and say hello… Goody! He’s stopping. He smells funny, too. I guess dogs and aardvarks aren’t the only smelly things in the rain.
Hey! He scratched my itch! Lucky! Now he’s going. Wow! Great!
I think I’ll chase my tail! Bark-ark-ark-ark-arUrrrrrrk! Verdamnt chain.
Somewhere it’s a dog day afternoon for life.
Andrew Fido Joseph
Title by Led Zeppelin