Uncategorized – Page 5 – Pain In The Bud

Shibuya: Where Dogs Rule

Tokyo may belong to its cats, but in Shibuya a dog holds a special place in everyone’s hearts.

Every day on his way home from work, Hidesaburō Ueno would step off the train at Shibuya Station and find his Akita dog, Hachiko, waiting for him.

Hachiko adored Ueno, an agriculture engineering professor at Tokyo Imperial University, now called the University of Tokyo.

Then one day Ueno was in mid-lecture in front of a class of students when he suffered a brain hemorrhage and died on the spot.

For the first time, Hachiko went to Shibuya Station and didn’t see his beloved human step off the train to greet him.

The little dog went back the next day. And the next. And the day after that.

Hachiko went to the Shibuya Station every day for the next 10 years, until he died of old age.

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Today the world’s most loyal dog is remembered with a statue at Shibuya Crossing, the world’s busiest intersection.

It’s a place marked by impermanence — three thousand pedestrians traverse Shibuya’s scramble crossing during every traffic light cycle, and thousands of faces come and go on the array of massive video screens overlooking the intersection.

The one thing that never changes is Hachiko, standing in the same spot he returned to every day, eternally keeping watch for his buddy.

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In 2015, the University of Tokyo unveiled a new statue on its campus, reuniting Hachiko with Ueno in the afterlife:

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Photo credit: Joyce Lam/TimeOut Tokyo

Finally, who’s that dapper fellow pouring sake? That’s my man Satoshi, bartender at what he translated as a “little drink box” —- one of Shibuya’s tiny bars, dozens of which are packed into alleys between the main streets.

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Satoshi’s bar seats five people, so we drank with two Tokyo natives who kindly humored me and my questions while my brother did his best at translating. He’s pretty good! I’m proud of him for learning the language so well, even though he insists he’s not very good.

Today I return to Shibuya to help my sister-in-law find a birthday present for my brother, and my next stop is Odaiba to meet a life-size Gundam RX-0 Unicorn.

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Photo credit: Tom Roseveare

Note: All photos by Big Buddy unless noted. The photos of Shibuya Crossing were taken from an observation platform on the rooftop of a nearby building.

Six Trees

Hello from Tokyo!

I’m here! Not much to show yet, as I didn’t quite nail the settings for properly shooting such a light-ambient city on my first night walk around Tokyo.

The immediate neighborhood is midway between Roppongi and Akasaka, not far from Tokyo Midtown. The word Roppongi means “six trees,” and the name dates back almost four centuries when the area was marked by half a dozen distinctive zelkova, also known as Japanese elm.

Here’s an aerial photo of the district:

As you can see, there’s a nice balance between green areas and urban density. Whereas New York has a very straightforward grid layout and you can get a feel for the dimensions of the city by looking down certain avenues running the length or width of the island, it’s easy to see why some people say Tokyo feels never-ending, one big sprawl of twisting streets, hills and alleys.

There’s also a verticality that gives it a different feel from American cities. Manhattan is famous for its urban “canyons,” but oftentimes there’s a clear demarcation between residential and commercial, both horizontally and vertically. Stores and restaurants are almost always on street level, while upper levels are either apartments or offices.

In this part of Tokyo the restaurants, shops, karaoke bars and movie theaters are just as likely to be on the 10th floor as the first, and the signs are often inscrutable even when they’re in English: A sign for one place, called Seven, includes no information about what kind of establishment it is beyond a cryptic piece of text that reads “I like when fight pure.”

Maybe it’s a boxing gym where they’re really sensitive about the rules. Or maybe it’s a bar where Japanese women mud-wrestle. Either one seems just as likely.

Below are some day shots, including a koi pond in the courtyard of my brother’s building. I’m not sure if Buddy would lick his lips or run in terror from these koi. They’re pretty big. And orange. And they jump! Any one of those things are enough to strike fear in the heart of the scaredy cat. Strange to think they can live as long as 35 years.

Meanwhile back in New York…

Looking at this photo, it almost seems like Buddy’s laying there dejected, thinking “Woe is me! Where has my Big Buddy gone? I am lost without him!”

Yet my mom reports Buddy waited for me and barely ate the first night, then by the second night he realized he’s still getting treated like a king, so he’s over it. The little jerk!

WANTED: Handy Human for Home Improvement

Buddy needs help remodeling things more to his tastes.

I need a handy human to come over to ~~Big Buddy’s~~ my apartment when Big Buddy is not here and help me with a little home improvement project.

Specifically I need you to unscrew all the hinge thingies and the hinges too, and take the doors down.

All of them.

Except maybe the one in the front because it keeps unwanted riff raff like dogs out of my house. But most definitely the doors to ~~Big Buddy’s~~ my bedroom and the bathroom need to go. Those are the most important ones.

As payment you can keep the doors you take down, and you can take a selfie with me so you can show all your friends you met the most handsomest and ripped cat in all the realm.

P.S. – I will take TWO selfies with any handy human who can also build me a staircase to the treat cabinet in the kitchen!

Above: What I would like you to do in my house.

The Birthday Boy Is 5 Years Old!

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It’s a bit of a paradox.

While it really doesn’t feel like five years have passed since I adopted a tiny gray kitten who quickly took over my home and my heart, sometimes I find it difficult to remember what life was like B.B., or Before Bud.

Buddy is a presence.

Of my cat-minion friends, most serve timid kitties who are experts at making themselves scarce. Some hide so well when guests are over, you’d never know a feline lives in the house. Only a few scattered toys or the presence of a litter box gives them away.

With Buddy there’s never any doubt a cat lives in my his home.

Like a dog, Buddy comes running any time there’s a knock on the door, standing beside me and sizing up visitors. He loves Halloween. He likes meeting new people and revels in attention. From his many perches he keeps watch over the neighborhood like a nosy Italian grandmother who knows everything about everyone in a three-block radius.

He also makes a lot of noise, to the point where I don’t have to look up from what I’m doing to know what he’s up to and where he is. If it’s quiet, that means he’s taking a nap.

I don’t do anything without Buddy getting involved somehow or supervising, and there can never, ever be a closed door between us or it becomes armageddon around here.

Over the past year or so I’ve learned I’m decent at writing amusing anecdotes about the little guy, but one thing I’m lousy at is expressing what he means to me. That’s not a surprise, since I’m terrible at expressing my love and gratitude for the people closest to me in life, nevermind the cats.

Suffice to say the inspiration for all these stories about vast catnip empires and the voice behind the world’s worst advice column is a loyal, endlessly amusing ~~cat~~ tiger with a big heart. And while he may not be “sweet” by traditional kitteh standards and he doesn’t like to be held, he signals his affection in other ways, like grooming my hair and falling asleep in my lap, where he feels safe.

Now that the saccharine stuff is out of the way, let’s end this post with matters of true import: His Grace has decreed that any and all gifts should come in the form of turkey, including but not limited to turkey meaty sticks, turkey moist treats and turkey-themed toys. Send them to Buddy, King of Mew York. The post office will know where to direct them.

Happy birthday, little man!

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If Catnip Is To Cats As Marijuana Is To Humans, Why’s It Legal?

Catnip isn’t illegal because the market would simply move underground under the control of the Gatos Gangs.

No one wants to see a revival of the bloody turf wars that resulted from the last time crusading politicians classified “the nip” as a Schedule I controlled substance.

The days of illegality were marked by brutal violence at the paws of niplords like Avon Meowsdale and Pawblo Escobar, who controlled the public housing towers and street corners with an iron claw, dispatching armies of furry minions to push that kitty crack.

It all seems like a joke until you slow-roll through the neighborhood and watch previously respectable cats splayed out on the sidewalks, twitching and drooling, dispatched by that foul weed to a world where neurons fire in poultry flavors and every object is a ball of yarn just waiting to be unraveled.

If your cat has been addicted to the nip, you’ll know the signs.

Medicine cabinets, pantries and kitchen cupboards sloppily rummaged through by shaking paws.

Oregano bottles left half-empty because your cat gorged himself on the herb until he realized he wasn’t getting high.

Globs of half-digested kibble upchucked in corners and closets by your withdrawal-stricken, sweat-matted kitty.

Cans of expensive cat food vanishing overnight, used as currency to purchase “can bags” of the insidious perennial.

Cat condos, toys and scratchers suddenly disappearing, pawned by desperate kitties who just need to “get well one last time.”

In short, illegal catnip turns our beloved felines into criminals who stalk the seedy underbellies of our cities, padding to all sorts of unsavory locations in pursuit of a fix. It empowers gangs like The Gatos and fuels feline criminal empires, which in turn leads to savage turf wars.

When veterinary clinics were filled to capacity with the victims of the brutal catnip wars, it was a wake-up call. Even kittens were caught up in the crossfire and recruited by The Gatos to serve as look-outs and runners.

Nowadays catnip is a strictly regulated yet legal market controlled by the likes of Jackson Galaxy and the Meowijuana Company instead of The Gatos. The world is a better place for it.