Kiki & Jiji

Chapter 1 - Jiji greets the world

KIKI WALKED slowly home from school. A dozen paces ahead, classmates giggled and laughed as they waited to cross the street. Kiki slowed down. She didn't want to talk to anyone. An old woman with hair almost purple approached. A beagle puppy dragged her forward, straining at its leash. Kiki smiled as the puppy leaped and sniffed and licked at her shoes.
    "Hey!'' Kiki laughed, as the dog jumped into her arms. She scratched it behind the ears. "Nice doggie, nice doggie.''
    "I'm so sorry,'' the woman said, but she was smiling, too.
    "That's OK.  How old is she?''
    "Three months, but she's big for her age.'' The old lady looked at Kiki more closely. "She's a lot like you, I guess."
    Kiki looked down, embarrassed.  She was big for her age, taller than all the girls and most of the boys in her class. She didn't like to think about it, and certainly didn't want to talk about it. If the woman said anything about her big feet, she would run away, puppy or no puppy.
Just in time, the beagle kissed Kiki on the lips, changing the subject.  "I think she's beautiful,'' she said.
    The woman leaned down and asked, ``Do you have a dog? Kiki set the pup down and shook her head, "No. My dad says our apartment is too small.''  She sighed as the woman and her puppy set off; she waved but they didn't see.
    Kiki stumbled at the entrance to her apartment building.  She looked down to see what had tripped her up.  Nothing. She'd tripped over her own feet.  "Why me?'' she whispered. Being ten years old was too hard!  She'd grown so fast over the past year, she could barely recognize herself.
    She let herself in her apartment near and settled in with her favorite video game but she couldn't concentrate. The sun sparkled on the Edogawa river, a wide expanse of slow moving water that cut the eastern suburbs off from Tokyo. The river was almost in her backyard.
    Kiki liked to imagine that if she traveled far enough down the wide river, somewhere, at a village or town, her mother would be waiting for her. She shook her head. It wasn't true. Her mother disappeared when she was just a baby and she wasn't waiting for her anywhere. Her father said he didn't know where she was and Kiki believed him.
    He was a good father and she knew he wouldn't lie to her. He was less certain when she asked why her mother left. "It's always difficult to know what another person is thinking, but I believe your mother
was more interested in the idea of marriage, than marriage itself. She liked all the attention and all the parties. After the wedding, people went back to their own lives, they didn't seem as interested in her.''
    "But what about me?'' Kiki asked.
    Her father hugged her and stroked her hair. "I guess it was the same thing. Maybe she saw having a baby as another way of being popular. It worked for a while, of course, but after you were born she found out that a baby was hard work.  It wasn't her fault that she couldn't do it, and it wasn't your fault either.''
    Kiki gave up on the video game and watched the boats going back and forth on the river. It wasspring; the water was flat and blue.  The little boats with their shiny paint sounded cheerful, their engines chug-chugging as they worked.
    Kiki wished she were a boat. She was lonely and wanted to sail away.

    Far away, far across the island that was Honshu, there was a village. At the back of an old house, in a yard with a white fence, Jiji was very scared.  Something big was happening, something huge. She couldn't see, of course, but she could feel her brothers and sisters wiggling, trying to get a good place in line. Jiji stayed in the back. They wanted to come out; she wanted to stay.
    It was nice where she was. Warm and dark. There was no danger and she was never hungry. The line moved forward. Jiji had no choice; she couldn't swim against the tide and the approaching, unfamiliar light.
    Plop!  Jiji was born. She was the last to meet the world.
    "Oh, it's so small,'' a voice exclaimed. 
    "It's no bigger than a mouse,'' a louder voice replied.
    A huge, rough thing licked at Jiji's fur. A second later she tasted air for the first time. It wasn't so bad and she relaxed a little.
    "Don't get too fond of it,'' the loud voice warned.  "It's weak and will certainly die.''

Chapter 2 - A struggle to survive

JIJI TRIED to get closer to her mother but one of her sisters pushed her away. Too hungry to give up, she crawled around the puppy and tried again from a new direction.  Whack! A foot, this one attached to a brother, hit her in the nose and she cried.
    ”You’re so selfish,” she said to the brother, already growing fat on his mother’s milk. ”Let me eat, I’m hungry!”
    As usual, the puppy, like all her brothers and sisters, ignored her. They’re all so stupid, she thought, as she licked her wounded nose. She positioned herself for another run at the food. ”So what if they’re big?” she grumbled. Not one of them could carry on a sensible conversation. All she ever got out of them were dumb grunts and angry growls.
    Jiji saw a break in the crowd and dashed forward. Aaahh!  Milk at last. She began to settle in for a leisurely dinner when the biggest brother of all crashed into her and stole her spot.
    ”It’s my turn!” she cried, retreating to safety. The brother turned his head and grunted before returning to his meal.
    Jiji sniffed, “What’s that supposed to mean? How’s anybody supposed to understand those stupid grunt-grunts? If you’d stop stuffing your face for a second, maybe you could learn to talk properly.”
    A week passed, and then another, but the puppies never did learn to speak. Even worse, Jiji discovered her mother couldn’t talk either. Yes, she could give orders and directions well enough, but only with pushes, barks, shoves and growls. Jiji was soon very lonely.
    Every day was a struggle to get enough to eat and to keep from getting hurt by her brothers and sisters. They didn’t want to hurt her, she knew that, but they did anyway.      They were all so big. Playtime for the puppies was dangerous for Jiji. Less than half their size, she could be crushed.
    With no one to play with, she was bored until she smelled the things moving outside her pen. True, they didn’t smell right, not like dogs at all, but they were fascinating.
    ”I think the little one might make it,” the loud voice said.
    ”You really think so?” the small voice asked.
    ”They usually die, but that dog is smart. Have you noticed how sneaky she is? She’s very good at getting food and staying out of everybody’s way.”
    ”She’s always looking at the ceiling.  What’s she looking at?”
    ”I don’t know, but it doesn’t seem she’s looking so much as listening.”
    Jiji’s language study paid off three weeks later. She learned something was going to happen the next day. It was imperfect knowledge at best, and all she did was worry.
Morning came and the puppies were lifted into a box and carried to a car for a trip to the big city. Hours later the box was passed to a man standing outside a department store. Jiji licked at the air. It tasted bad and dirty. Noises from every direction hurt her ears.
    The department store displayed the puppies in a cage on the fifth floor. A sign on the glass front of the cage said: Yorkshire Terriers.
    Children crowded the cage and tapped the glass with dirty fingers. The puppies jumped, barked, and licked at the glass. All except Jiji.  She stayed at the back of the cage, refusing to even glance at the customers.
    What’s the matter with them? She wondered, watching her brothers and sisters make fools of themselves. She wiggled her ears and shook her head—let them humiliate themselves, I never will. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched the strange creatures moving about the pet shop. They seemed to come in two sizes—big and huge. The smaller ones were noisy, the bigger ones scary. She lay down in a corner and pretended to sleep.
    Later that day, the fattest brother was sold to a family with an equally fat little boy. The brother and the boy grunted happily as the father left the store carrying a cardboard puppy box.
    Jiji was surprised and confused when the brother was taken from the cage. Lucky for her she didn’t know this was just the beginning and she would soon be in terrible danger.

Chapter 3 – Dash for freedom

IT WASN'T difficult for the department store to sell the puppies.  They were all lively and healthy.  One by one, they disappeared from the cage.
    At first, Jiji believed her brothers and sisters would return, but after awhile, she understood they were never coming back.
She had no trouble getting food now and she didn’t have to worry about being smashed by the other pups.  Almost everybody was gone.  She walked up to the last puppy—a brother—and rubbed against his fur.
    ”You’ll be leaving soon,” she said.
    The puppy licked Jiji’s nose in a friendly fashion.  He was nicer now that there was no competition for food.
    ”It’s going to be cold sleeping alone,” Jiji said, more to herself than to her brother.  She knew he couldn’t understand her.
    A hand reached into the cage.  Jiji lay down in a corner and closed her eyes.  ”Bye-bye, brother,” she whispered, as the hand took the puppy away.
    Jiji was nearly four months old when the pet shop gave up on her.  Two weeks before, a girl working in the shop pleaded with the manager to stop warning customers about the little terrier’s health.
    ”Look how small she is,” he answered.  ”It’s my responsibility.  I have to tell them her health might not be so good.”
    She pointed her finger at him. “Nobody will ever take her home and it’s all your fault!”  She started to cry and walked away.
    The manager shook his head.  He felt bad but what could he do?

    In the secret part of the night, long after the shop girls had gone home, a man waited in the shadows near the store’s delivery entrance.  He was middle-aged and rough looking.  His clothes were dirty; he hadn’t shaved in a week.
    ”Well, it’s about time,” he said, as the pet shop manager stepped into the light.  ”So what ya got for me?”  He held out his hand for the small box.
    The manager hesitated.  If only there was another way.  Maybe he could take it home.  He shook his head.  He’d already adopted two unwanted puppies and one kitten.  His wife would divorce him if he brought another pet home.
    ”What are you waiting for?” the man asked.  ”You feel sorry for the poor puppy?”  He laughed, snatched the box away and reached inside.
Jiji bit the hand as hard as she could.
    ”Ouch!”
    ”Be gentle,” the manager pleaded.
    The man swore and tried again, carefully avoiding the sharp, baby teeth.
”Gotcha,” he growled, pulling Jiji from the box.  He slapped her hard in the head and dumped her in a cloth sack.  Jiji tumbled unconscious into the darkness.
   
    The wide boulevard was lined with colorful booths as people, young and old, celebrated a local festival.  Children pestered parents for sweets; old people relived childhoods long gone, sampling traditional treats.
    At the least attractive booth, kids crowded in for a better look.  Many asked their parents for money.  The adults, some shocked by the cruelty, pulled their children away.
    Jiji lay on the booth’s wooden counter.  A cord was tied around her neck.  It choked her if she moved.  Her right eye was swollen and it hurt.  The man that had hit her stood behind the counter.  ”Puppies for sale!” he bellowed.  ”Good puppies for sale!”
    A housewife in cheap clothes scratched her dirty hair and grabbed a mixed-breed puppy.  She pulled so hard the puppy started to choke.  ”Oh, it’s cute,” the stupid woman said.
    ”You’re hurting the puppy,” a smarter, better-dressed woman said.  She turned to the puppy seller.  ”If this isn’t illegal, it should be.  How can you do this?”
    ”Ahh, I treat them OK,” he answered.  ”Why don’t you mind your own business?”  He took the puppy back and put it on the counter.
    ”You treat them OK?” the woman argued.  ”Look at them you fool, they’re half dead.  I’m going to call the police.”
    A little girl interrupted.  ”Can I hold this one?”
    ”Well, OK,” the puppy seller said, removing the cord from one of the puppies.      He handed over the little dog.  ”That’s my favorite.  I’ll sell it to you for only—”
    Jiji saw her chance and took it.  She jumped out of the child’s hands and landed on the sidewalk, running for her life.  A forest of legs blocked her escape.  She raced between tennis shoes and boots as the puppy seller shouted and tried to climb out of his booth.  ”Stop that dog!” he screamed.
    Jiji leaped into the busy road.  She didn’t look where she was going.  A delivery van charged down the street.  The orange haired teenager behind the wheel didn’t see the tiny puppy until he was nearly on top of it.  He slammed on the brakes, knowing he couldn’t stop in time.

Chapter 4 – Kiki's big surprise

THE HUGE noise terrified Jiji.  She stopped running and tried to make herself small.  Maybe the monster wouldn’t see her.  The van screeched and snarled and stopped—right on top of her.  Shivering in fear, she crawled forward to take a look.
    The mobile monsters were everywhere.  She dashed forward.  Luck was with her and she made it across the street without getting squashed.  She sniffed, peed in gratitude, and raced down an alley.
    Jiji spent the night in a nearby park.  She lay exhausted and hungry under a bush.  A temple bell sounded.  Not far away a couple laughed.  Their footsteps scratched at the dirt path, their whispers reached out to Jiji.
    The puppy opened her eyes.  The lights in the park were dim, leaving everything in unfriendly shadow.  She closed them again.  Her future was cloudy and beyond her ability.  Her past and her present were bad enough.  ”I don’t want to see.  I don’t want to know,” she cried.  The boy and girl strolled away, slipping into darkness.  She listened as a small wind pushed the leaves back in forth in the trees.  She smelled the damp earth beneath her, felt its coldness in her belly.
    Hunger forced her from her hiding place as sunlight turned the park from black to gray.  The puppy crept up to the edge of the playground, sniffing desperately.  Something floated in the air—something like food.  With a leap and an eager growl, Jiji charged across the dirt, swerved around a swing set, and tumbled to a stop in front of a green trashcan.
    Sniff, sniff—she found no puppy chow; she found nothing much at all.  All the best smells were inside the trashcan and impossible to reach.  Jiji circled the trash, her nose brushing the ground with determination.  A crumpled paper container invited closer inspection.  It looked interesting and smelled even better.
    Food, absolutely food!  Her nose twitched, telling her it was safe.  Her tongue told her it was delicious.  In years to come, Jiji would never forget raspberry and vanilla—and even the tiniest bite of ice cream would make her happy.
    Feeling stronger, she spotted a crust of bread a few meters away.  She ran toward it licking her lips.  A shadow passed over her.  Jiji was too young and too hungry to look up.
    Kiki blinked, confused by the darkness.  She grabbed the alarm clock off the table, glanced at its glowing face and groaned.  Five in the morning.  She rolled over and buried her head in her pillow.
    Ten minutes later, wide awake and extremely grumpy, she gave up on sleep and got out of bed.  ”It’s Sunday morning,” she grumbled, trading her Tweetie nightshirt for a pair of jeans and a T-shirt with a big heart on the front.
    Kiki bought a can of tea from a vending machine and walked to a park near her home.  She had never been in the park this early.  Actually, she couldn’t remember being anywhere this early.  She sat on a bench, yawned and looked around.  There wasn’t much to see.  A park like any other and for the hundredth time she wondered what she was doing up at dawn.
    Something moved across the playground.  Kiki shuddered.  It was a crow—a big, ugly, noisy bird.  ”Craw-craw,” it squawked.  ”Yuck, yuck,” Kiki answered.  Something else moved—something much smaller.
    A rat, she thought.  A nasty rat to go with the disgusting crow.  They fought, the rat and the crow, and Kiki watched.  She didn’t like rats or crows and didn’t care who won.  The conclusion was obvious anyway—the bird was ten times the size of the rodent.
    The rat broke free.  It seemed to look straight at her.  ”Help!  Help!”
    Kiki’s heart thumped and she jumped—running across the playground.  ”Stop!” she screamed.  A crow yes, but not a rat.  Not a rat!  A puppy!  She covered the distance in a few steps but not before the crow grabbed the puppy in its talons and flew into the air.
    Kiki screamed again and fired her half-empty can of tea at the fleeing bird.  Whack!  Good shot!  The can hit the crow like an anti-aircraft missile and it lost its grip.  The puppy fell a few meters and hit the ground with a dangerous sounding thud.
    Kiki knelt next to the puppy.  Its eyes were closed; a turning-blue tongue dangled from its mouth.
    ”Breathe!” Kiki begged, pushing on the dog’s chest.  The puppy’s fur was wet with sweat.  ”Please,” she whispered.  ”Please, don’t die.”
    When the puppy began to shake, Kiki picked it up and covered its nose with her mouth.  Gently, she pushed air into the dying dog.

Chapter 5 – Jiji's brush with death

A PAIR of paws kicked Kiki in the nose and shoved her away.
    ”Enough, already,” the puppy groaned.   ”I can do it myself.”
    Surprised, Kiki lost her grip and dropped it on its head.
    ”Oh, no,” she cried.  She’d saved it and now she’d killed it.  Snatching the puppy off the ground, she placed her ear to its chest.  Still breathing, but not very well, and not much thanks to Kiki.  This time the puppy didn’t say anything.  It lay still in her hands with its eyes closed.
Kiki ran for the park exit.  She knew what to do.  There was a veterinarian’s office three blocks away and not a single heartbeat to lose.
    ”Help us,” she yelled at the animal doctor wearing blue striped pajamas.
    Angry at being yanked from his warm bed above the office, he scowled at the little girl.  ”What’s the problem?”
    ”It fell.  It’s dying.  Save it,” she ordered, holding out the puppy.
    The vet started to object, saw the determination on the child’s face, and took the animal into his examination room.  ”Wait here,” he said and closed the door.
    Kiki waited exactly thirty-four minutes but it seemed like forever.  She jumped up as the vet returned carrying a small bundle.  He handed her the puppy wrapped in a hand towel.
    ”Is it OK?” she asked, uncovering the dog’s face.  ”It doesn’t look very OK.”
    ”I’ve done everything I can,” he said.  ”It had a heart attack.  I gave it a shot to keep it alive.”
    The puppy opened its eyes weakly, looked at Kiki and closed them again.
    ”You didn’t answer my question.  Is it going to be all right?”
    ”I took X-rays.  It’s the strangest thing I’ve ever seen.  The heart looks completely round.”  He shook his head, still upset at being dragged from sleep so early in the morning.  ”Anyway, to answer your question.  No, it’s not going to be OK.  It’s going to die.”
    The vet shrugged as the door slammed behind the girl.  He slowly climbed the staircase to his bedroom.
    A deliveryman, and later closer to home, a paperboy stopped to watch the girl hurrying down the sidewalk.  Both wondered what she so carefully carried and why she looked so sad.
    Kiki wrapped the puppy in a silk coverlet and set it in the center of the carpet in her bedroom.  Near its nose she placed a saucer of water, slightly farther away a dish of cold, boiled rice.  The puppy didn’t move and neither did Kiki.
    Her father found her hours later lying next to the puppy gently stroking its head.
    ”What have you got there?”  He knelt on the carpet to get a better look at a tiny face poking from the light green coverlet.
    His daughter kept her eyes on the animal.  ”She won’t wake up and the vet, he was so mean, he said she’s going to die and I don’t know what to do...” Kiki seemed to burst with concern, all her worries tumbling out.
    ”Looks like you’re doing the right thing,” her father said, touching her lightly on the shoulder.  He really hadn’t understood her explanation but now wasn’t the time for questions.  ”I’m sure the puppy will be fine,” he said, heading for the kitchen to make Kiki’s breakfast.
    Kiki watched the puppy for the rest of the morning and all afternoon.  Her father brought her food and took her place when she went to the bathroom.  She petted the dog and constantly offered encouragement.  At 2 a.m., her father went to bed and suggested she try to do the same.
    ”Please don’t die,” Kiki whispered.  ”You’re tough, you can do it.  I’m sorry I dropped you.  Come on, you’ve slept enough.  It’s time to wake up...” She drifted into sleep, nose-to-nose with the puppy.

Chapter 6 – Kiki's big surprise

KIKI WOKE to a strange noise.  It wasn’t the sound of the paperboy or the song of early rising birds.  It was a quiet, safe little noise.  Half asleep, she yawned, noting her back hurt.  ”Oh,” she exclaimed, remembering where she was and why.  Her eyes flew open and she smiled with joy.  The noise was coming from the little puppy.  It was lying next to her cheek, face in its paws. It was snoring, and snoring was good!  Just sleeping not dying!
    She freed herself from her covers as quietly as she could and sat up.  As much as she didn’t want to disturb the puppy she couldn’t resist reaching out and gently stroking its back.  The snoring stopped. 
    Jiji had more trouble than Kiki remembering where she was.  Of course she did—she’d never been in Kiki’s living room.  Remembering only bad things, scary and dangerous things, she opened her eyes just a little bit, to tiny secret slits.  She looked around cautiously.  Indoors.  She liked that—it was warm and felt safe.  But she wasn’t alone.
    Kiki leaned down—face-to-face—and whispered, “Are you awake?” She felt the puppy relax under her touch.
”Didn’t you talk yesterday?” She thought she remembered the dog speaking but now she wasn’t sure.  It was impossible really.
Jiji opened her eyes in wide surprise and stared at Kiki, No one—no dog, no human, had ever understood her.  It was exciting.
    ”That’s OK,” Kiki said, patting the puppy on the head.  Jiji rolled on her back and Kiki took the hint and scratched her on the stomach.  ”I don’t care if you can talk.  It was probably just a dream.”
    Jiji wriggled under the girl’s attentions and groaned, “A little lower, please.”
Kiki shrieked, surely loud enough to wake her father, “I knew it, I knew you could talk!”
    Jiji smiled in that funny, wrinkly way some dogs do.  She would have cried if she could.  At last, someone could hear her.  She wasn’t all alone anymore.  ”Only you, only you,” she whispered, and began to explain the best she could.  ”My name is Jiji and I...”
    At a little past 7 a.m., Kiki’s father stood in the doorway outside the living room listening to his daughter talk to the puppy.  It was an unusual conversation, if you could call it that.  She spoke, the puppy barked, she spoke, the puppy barked.  A little weird he thought, but she sounded happy.  The dog must have recovered.  He shook his head, knowing he was going to let her keep it. 
    ”You’d better hustle it up,” he warned, “You’ve got school today.”
School!  What was she going to do? ”I can’t leave her all alone.” Kiki begged.
Her father made a quick trip to the kitchen, returning with the morning newspaper.         ”Sure you can. Make a little pen in the corner of your room and cover the floor with newspaper.”
    Kiki shook her head but took the paper from her dad.  ”I don’t know...”
    ”She’ll be fine. After she gets a little older you can get rid of the pen and move the papers out on the balcony.”
    ”Sounds cool to me,” Jiji said.  ”Don’t forget food and water.” The puppy licked her lips, “Lots and lots of food.”
    Kiki smiled.  ”Well if it’s OK with you, it’s OK with me.”
    Her dad laughed, “So the dog can talk, huh?”
    Kiki was startled.  He could hear the puppy, too?  A quick look at his face told her the opposite.  He was just teasing.  She made a quick and wise decision—no one must ever know.  ”Dogs can’t talk, everybody knows that.” She winked at Jiji and smiled.

Chapter 7 – Dog lessons

KIKI RACED home from school, stopping only to pick up supplies at a pet store a few blocks from her apartment.  Jiji had been alone for the whole day; trapped in the cardboard box her father had given her.
    She cracked open the door just a little to take a peek, trying not to make any noise. No luck. Jiji’s ears were so much better than hers. Little claws scrabbled on cardboard—and there she was, her head hanging over the edge of the box. “Let me out, let me out,” the puppy whined.
    Kiki plopped down on the carpet and lifted Jiji from the box. “So what’d you do all day,” she asked.
    Jiji wriggled out of her hands and ran around the room. “What did you expect me to do? I slept and I peed and I ate. And then I slept and—“
    “OK, I get the point,” Kiki said. “Look,” she held out a bag. I bought you some presents.”
    Jiji ran over and sniffed the bag. “There’s food in there?” It was a rhetorical question—even through the plastic wrap she could smell puppy dog bones.
Kiki dumped the contents on the floor. “Yes, I got you snacks, a leash, and even a sweater. What do you think?”
    “Gimme one of those snacks you’re talking about,” Jiji growled.
    “Don’t be rude.” Kiki held up the snack and commanded, “Speak!”
    “Gimme!” Jiji said, losing patience.
    “No. You have to bark like a regular dog when I say ‘Speak!’”
    Jiji shook her head. “Do other dogs beg like that?”
    “Sure, all the time. They like it.”
    “So being a dog means I gotta cringe and beg and humiliate myself and I’m supposed to like it?”
    “Pretty much.”
    Jiji sighed, cleared her throat and barked.
    Kiki laughed. “I didn’t say cough. That was pathetic. Try again.”
    The puppy lay down on the carpet, put her paws over her eyes and said, “I’m not hungry anymore. You eat it.”
    Kiki quickly gave in. “OK, how about it you just say please?”
    “Please!” Jiji leaped across the carpet and grabbed the treat out of Kiki’s hand.
    “Don’t eat so fast,” Kiki warned.
    Jiji growled, and speaking out of the side of her mouth as she chewed, said, “Dogs always eat fast. We think it’s the last food we’re ever gonna get and somebody might take it away.”
    “How do you know?”
    “I don’t know. I just know. It’s a dog thing.”
    As Jiji licked her lips, Kiki held up the leash.
    “What’s that?” Jiji asked, nosing the strange object. She didn’t the smell or look of it.
    “Your wear it when we go outside. It keeps you safe. Here, let’s put it on and you’ll get the picture.”
    “Whoa, hold it,” Jiji, said, struggling and almost nipping at Kiki’s fingers as she tried to get her front paws through the harness. Kiki stroked her back. “Trust me. It won’t hurt. See that’s not so bad.” She put the dog down on and the carpet and let her run around the room, trailing the leash behind her.
    Jiji returned and asked, “Fine, I’m wearing it. But what’s the point? I’ll just trip over it.”
    Kiki picked up the leash. “Not if I’m holding the end, like this. See?”
Jiji plopped herself down on her belly on the other side of the room. “I get it. I go where you want to go, not where I want to go. You’re the master and I am the slave.”
    “Come here,” Kiki ordered, deciding it was time for a lesson in discipline.
    Jiji shook her head, hunched down in the carpet and refused to budge.
    “Come,” Kiki said, a bit louder this time.  Jiji stared at her but didn’t move. “You gotta do what I say. Those are the rules. Come here!”
    Jiji didn’t want to obey. She wanted to stay right where she was. But Kiki’s voice was irresistible—she wriggled forward on her stomach, unable to stop herself, until she was halfway to Kiki. Again she plopped down on the carpet and tried to hold out against the VOICE.
    Kiki laughed. “Nice try. Come here.”
    Resistance was futile and quickly forgotten. She raced across the carpet and licked Kiki’s face, happy just to be loved.

Chapter 8 – Jiji visits Asakusa

TWO WEEKS later Kiki’s father said he thought Jiji was strong enough for her first trip outside. She certainly was fatter. A steady died of puppy chow had nearly doubled her weight. Her coat was glossy and her eyes were bright with excitement.
    “Let’s go. Let’s go,” she barked, trying to crawl up Kiki’s leg.
    “OK, but ya gotta get dressed first,” Kiki said. “You can’t go outside naked. It’s chilly outside.”
    She carried Jiji to the elevator and they rode nine floors down to the street. Jiji, clad in her yellow duck outfit—hood with orange beak and wings affixed to her—sniffed. And sniffed, and sniffed. Everything smelled wonderful. She smelled grass and trees and dogs—lots of dogs. It was overwhelming. After her confinement in the apartment, she nearly swooned. Wagging her tail, yelping, she pulled against her leash and yelled at Kiki. “Hurry up, I want to run—run, run, run.”
    Kiki let herself be dragged behind the excited puppy for as long as she could. Finally, she collapsed at a bus stop to catch her breath. Pulled up short, Jiji objected, “Why are we stopping? What’s the delay? Can’t you go any faster? Let’s go. Run fast!”
    Kiki laughed. “No run-run. It’s time for rest-rest. And it’s also time to figure out where we’re going. Got any ideas?” It’s Saturday. We’ve got plenty of time.
    “Don’t care,” Jiji panted, her tongue hanging out. “Just want to go-go.” She sniffed at a corner of the bus stop bench, squatted and took a token pee. “Oh, this is just so much fun.”
    “We’ll maybe for you,” Kiki said, starting off at a much reduced pace. “But running, sniffing and peeing isn’t my idea of a perfect day. Why don’t we go visit Grandma Tomoko? She’d love to meet you.”
    “Does she live near here?”
    “Not really. She lives across the river. We have to take the train. You can hide under my sweatshirt.”
    The grandmother in question was the “nice” one—her father’s mother. The other one, the one supplied by the long-gone mother had never shown any interest in Kiki, any interest in anything but pachinko and sake. Like mother, like daughter—Kiki’s mother had abandoned her in the canned food aisle of a discount warehouse. At first she lay quietly in her stroller, looking up at cases of creamed corn stacked to the rafters. Eventually, she cried. Store employees found her with her name and father’s work phone number written with a felt-tipped pen on Kiki’s forehead. To this day, she refused to eat canned corn and canned food in general made her queasy.
    “Now be quiet,” she whispered, as she zipped the puppy inside her sweatshirt. “And try not to wiggle around too much.” She bought a single ticket and waited on the Tozai Line platform and waited until the train arrived. As she stepped aboard, Jiji kicked her hard in the stomach. “What’s happening?” It’s too dark in here. Let me out.”
    Kiki moved as far from the other passengers as possible. The train wasn’t crowded and she could rub the impatient lump without attracting attention. “Shhh. Next time I’ll buy you a dog carry bag and we can travel in style. You’ll like it—they even little windows.”
    “I’ll still hate it. Let me out,” the lump grumbled.
    Jiji kicked her again and Kiki almost lost her patience. “Stop that, you baby. We’ve still got a long way to go. Just relax.”
    Kiki’s tone of voice did the trick. After a slight whine and a getting-comfy wriggle, Jiji began to snore.
    Grandma Tomoko lived in Asakusa.  It was a this-and-that and everything you could imagine type of place. Old wooden houses sagged against dilapidated shops selling cutlery and plastic food. Sun blocking, skyscraping offices lorded over tiny shrines that seemed to inhabit every nook and cranny. Her neighborhood was one of the last bits of what was called old Tokyo. Tourists, foreign and domestic, clogged the narrow alleys. A pair of country bumpkins watched a woman in kimono and wooden clogs splash water over cobblestones in front of her house to keep the dust down. The tourists from Ibaraki elbowed each other and nodded knowingly: This is how it used to be.
    Kiki climbed the stairs out of the subway station and walked around the corner to a less busy street. She attached Jiji’s leash and set her down on the pavement. The puppy shook herself vigorously to get the kinks out, tripped and fell over. Kiki laughed, and Jiji, to hide her embarrassment, barked loudly, “Where to!”
    “Turn left at the next corner.”
    Jiji charged ahead and Kiki lost her grip on the leash. “Stop!” she screamed, as the dog disappeared around a building. Terrified the puppy would be hit by a car, she began to run. She didn’t have to go far. Jiji had stopped to investigate a bundle of rags and plastic on the sidewalk in front of a cigarette shop. She stood on top of the rags and sniffed.
    Kiki crouched down and whispered, “Don’t make any noise, just get down from there and come here.”
    “What’s wrong? Why are you whispering?” Jiji crawled forward on her belly determined to investigate the lump. She found something interesting—sniff, and oh, no! Lick!
    “Arrrgh,” the plastic and paper moaned. It moved fast—herky-jerky bobble-headed.     Jiji blasted off the pile in fright and landed in Kiki’s arms. An angry gargle-gargle voice chased them down the street.
    “What was that?” Jiji squeaked, still shaking in fear.
    “Just an old lady. She lives there, in that place. You gotta be careful.’’
    “I thought I smelled—“
    “I don’t want to know. “
    “Why is she all wrapped in plastic and newspapers? She doesn’t look like a proper person at all.”
    “That’s because she’s not a proper person, not anymore at least. She just drinks and sleeps on her corner. It’s not her fault. Don’t lick her on the nose again. She doesn’t want you.”
    “Put me down” Jiji demanded.
    “No. Grandma’s place is right over there.

Chapter 9 – Jiji meets Tomoko

SOME PEOPLE didn’t like the old wooden houses. They said they were unsafe in earthquakes and lacked modern conveniences. But just seeing her grandmother’s house—smelling it, hearing it, touching it—made her feel loved and safe.
    Tomoko served snacks to Kiki as Jiji investigated the living room. “Don’t you dare pee in the house,” Kiki warned. “Tell me and I’ll take you outside.”
    Tomoko was fifty-eight and looked younger. Kiki often lulled herself to sleep at night doing the math: If Grandma was really as young as she looked, she could easily be her mother.
    “I don’t have any dog food, but do you think she’d like a tuna? Kiki made a face.         “Come on, Grandma. You’re spoiling her.”
    “But I spoil you, don’t I?” Tomoko said, smiling.
    “Yeah, spoil me,” Jiji grumbled, nose aquiver. She smelled the sashimi and tiny paws tattooed the tatami and she raced over to Tomoko. Licking her lips furiously, she crouched in involuntary deference, excitement and canine gluttony.
    “Jiji! What did I just tell you?”
    The puppy flattened herself the tatami, making a good show of doggie shame and humiliation, but all the while keeping both eyes on the food.
    “That’s all right,” Tomoko said. She wiped up Jiji’s accident and placed a bowl of raw tuna in front of her.
    “How come you never give me any of this,” Jiji complained in mid-bite. “It’s a whole lot tastier than that stuff you give me.”
    Kiki settled down on a zabuton. “For a couple of reasons. One, that stuff I give you is good for you. And two, at the speed you eat, I’m surprised you can taste it at all. That sashimi costs a fortune.” Kiki smiled at her grandmother and stuck her tongue out at Jiji. “It’s too good for you.”
    Tomoko sat on a cushion next to Kiki and gave her granddaughter a hug. “You’re papa said you spoke to the dog all the time. Do you think she understands you?”
    Kiki laughed. “Better than you would believe, Grandma.”
    Tomoko made tempura for lunch, Kiki’s favorite. It was, as usual, just perfect.
    Crouched, sulking next to the short table, Jiji mimicked Kiki. “Oh, Grandma, it’s so wonderful. Umm, I bet Jiji would just love it, but she’s too young for fried food.” The smell was driving her crazy. She growled as Kiki placed the last bite in her mouth. She chewed slowly and the lip-smacking was cruelly overdone.  Kiki giggled and Jiji placed her paws over her face and moaned.
    “Here,” Kiki said, pulling a couple of pieces of puppy kibble from her pocket and rolling them across the tatami. “Eat this. We gotta get going. Dad’ll kill me if we don’t get home before dark.”
    Jiji pounced and gobbled. Kiki hugged her grandmother and kissed her goodbye. Satisfied, Jiji even gave Tomoko an affectionate lick on the toe.
    Jiji was very tired and slept on the train home. She really didn’t wake until Kiki put her down in her doggie bed. “Uhh,” she cleared her throat and blinked. “Is it dinner time yet?”
    Kiki smiled and pointed at her food bowl. “Why don’t you go look?”
    After finishing dinner—a thirty second endeavor—Jiji dragged herself back to her bed, crawled under her blanket and soon the living room was filled with the soft sound of a contented snoring puppy.

Chapter 10 – The bike ride

JIJI RAN five meters behind Kiki’s bike along the brick river walk on the banks of the Edogawa. Two years old, she was near peak strength. Kiki rode fast and Jiji kept up easily. Still the smallest dog in town, she drew exclamations, giggles and smiles wherever she went. She didn’t mind at all. Most of puppyhood’s terrors were forgotten—she loved being the center of attention. Of course, she didn’t like the fools, the ones that called her nezumi—rat—or the awful old ladies that screamed “cute!” at the top of their lungs and grabbed at her. She bit them. Not hard enough to draw blood but sufficient to make them stomp off in a red mist of anger. This grasping unwanted attention was rare. Kiki was terribly protective. Too careful, Jiji thought. She wasn’t one of the idiotic car-chasing males; she didn’t …
    “Dog!” Jiji shouted, her sharp eyes spotting a brown shape coming their way. Kiki slammed on the brakes, reached down and picked her up, and kept riding. They passed a tail-wagging Akita out for a stroll with her owner, a girl about Kiki’s age. Both Akita and the junior high school girl looked harmless and friendly. Kiki smiled and said good morning to both. Jiji peeked out from under Kiki’s arm. She tried to wag her tail, but it was a pathetic little greeting.
    “Your such a chicken.” Kiki said. “That looked like a nice dog.”
    Jiji made a sound that might have indicated agreement. She was, as always, embarrassed. Other dogs terrified her. They were always bigger. They were unpredictable and might bite. She couldn’t understand how they could dash about in little groups sniffing butts and barking, tangling themselves in their leashes. She wanted nothing to do with them. If she tried really hard, she could dimly remember when she was a baby and never getting enough milk from her mother. Her brothers and sisters were so much larger. They nipped her nose and shoved her aside.
    The “danger” passed and Kiki set her back down on the bricks. Jiji shook off her embarrassment, stretched her legs and began running again. Other dogs might be bigger, but she was fast. A gray blur, she raced along, the sun warm on her back. Her tiny paws barely touched the bricks. She laughed to herself and increased her pace.
    Kiki looked back and laughed, too. Jiji was so healthy. She was still angry with the vet that said she wouldn’t live for a year. As far a Kiki could see, she might live forever. And Jiji was tough. She had that terrier attitude. Once she got her jaws clamped on something she would never let go. In her case, it was her favorite sock or a stuffed toy, not another dog’s leg or a hand.
    Her father warned her, but Kiki couldn’t resist. Once Jiji had a good grip on the sock, Kiki could swing her around, if slowly, a few inches above the carpet. Jiji growled, feigning anger, but she loved the play as well. All Kiki had to say was “sock” and Jiji would run to her bed and dig it out from among her toys.
    There was one word she hated, thought. That was “fly.” That meant it was time for Kiki to hold her and gently toss her into the air. She would catch her before she hit the carpet and giggle. Jiji put up with it for Kiki’s sake, but it was scary. She didn’t think anyone liked being tossed about.
    Jiji spurted forward and caught up with Kiki. “How far we gonna go today, Boss?”
    Kiki wasn’t sure how she felt like being called “boss” but Jiji had picked up the lingo watching TV and seemed to enjoy it. She digested slang as easily and with as much enjoyment at doggie bones. “Well, buddy, you think you can make it through the weeds to Urayasu?”
    Jiji howled with pleasure. “You betcha, boss. Let’s shake a leg!”
    Urayasu was a neighboring suburb, one train stop closer to Tokyo, and quite a distance. There and back would take more than an hour. Kiki wasn’t sure she wanted to pedal that far, but she wasn’t about to admit it to a dog about the size of a handful of hamsters.

Chapter 11 – To Urayasu

THE SMOOTH brick path along the river ended abruptly. Kiki and Jiji slowed and cautiously entered a shadowy underpass. About twenty meters wide and 100 meters deep, it was littered with contraband—squished glue tubes, sodden porno comics and empty wine bottles. A stained back seat, wrenched from a car leaned against the curved cement. Graffiti, sprayed in red and black, climbed to the ceiling.
    Kiki got off her bike and pushed it through the tunnel. There was junk on the broken concrete roadway that could give her a nasty spill. Jiji darted back and forth, sniffing. At night the tunnel was a hangout local teens. Kiki thought they were bad. A normal, judgmental twelve-year-old, she was especially critical of the girls, some of whom were no older than she. That her father was well off and theirs’ were poor; that she was on track for a good life while their train would stop at another station—she was too young to fully understand.
    They silently picked their way through the tunnel aiming for the sunlight. Near the end, Jiji barked, a real dog, word-free bark. Against the wall Kiki saw something move in the gloom. “Jiji stop!” she commanded.
    Old winos sometimes occupied the tunnel in the daytime. They weren’t dangerous but she still didn’t want Jiji near one. They smelled. If Jiji were approached roughly, she would bite. But today, it wasn’t a drunk but a fisherman taking a break on a crate. He had his catch in a cooler and a beer in his hand. Kiki smiled as he held his hand out slowly to let Jiji get a sniff. That was the way to do it. Go slow. He must have his own dog, she thought. “Have any luck?” she asked, as pushed her bike past.
    He nodded and reached down to pet Jiji. “Small. They don’t come much smaller than this one.”
    “She’s a runt,” Kiki said.
    The fisherman smiled, silently acknowledging something that was quite obvious. Jiji barked, “That word!”
    Jiji was still whining when they reached the end of the tunnel and Kiki got back on her bike.
    “You promised not to call me that anymore. You promised.”
    Kiki pedaled slowly along a dirt path that snaked through grass along the river. She turned her head and shouted, “Watch out for glass.”
    Jiji, still peeved, stood her ground, deciding if she would follow or refuse to budge. Nonviolent disobedience was her only alternative when dealing with Kiki. Biting was out of the question. But the sun was too high, too hot, and the day too gorgeous. Her legs didn’t care about the perceived insult, they took off after the bike. She ran down the path, occasionally glancing down to search the dirt for sharp objects that might cut her paws.
     Jiji took a deep breath. She smelled warm dirt, grass turned brown, bugs, mouse droppings and the breeze off the river. Never a dog to dwell on the future, she ordered herself to remember this moment. She was so happy to be alive. She heard Kiki singing to herself as she pedaled; she was so happy to be loved.
    Kiki was thinking much the same thing. It truly was a marvelous day. Now in her first year of junior high, she was still a bit gawky and taller than the other girls. She was also smarter and prettier than most and gaining on the leaders. This was not a conclusion she would have ever reached herself, but her father’s and Jiji’s continual encouragement were working wonders.
    Secretly, her dad gave great credit to the little dog. Kiki smiled all the time now and her confidence was growing daily. That she paid more attention to Jiji than her girlfriends didn’t bother him. In the pre-Jiji days she hadn’t had any friends at all. Yes, it was mildly disturbing that she reserved her most perceptive statements for the dog. Yes, the long pauses, apparently to allow for responses, were disconcerting, as was the elevated grammar level. Kiki used less slang with the dog than she did with her friends. He didn’t care. Life was better for everyone. His mother was as delighted with Kiki’s pet as she was with her granddaughter. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d thought of his long-gone wife.
    Half an hour later the dirt path to Urayasu ended and another neat, well-maintained river walk began. Kiki had to dismount and weave her bike through yellow stanchions imbedded in the brick to keep out motorcycles. Jiji waited a few meters ahead, impatient to get moving.
    “Not so fast, buster, Kiki said,” pulling a water bottle from her backpack. “We can’t have you getting dehydrated. You know what dehydrated means, right?”
    Jiji was a little thirsty, but she was irritated by the sudden pop quiz. “Yes,” she answered, and rolled her eyes. “I learned that word months ago. If I don’t drink enough water I die.”
    “Close enough.” Kiki poured a little of the liquid in the bottle’s cap and Jiji lapped it up. As she screwed the cap back on, Jiji whined, “You’d better drink some, too. We wouldn’t want you to get dehydrated, would we?’’
    Kiki pointed to a bench facing the calm, blue-green river. “Why don’t we take a break? You can tell me about your brothers and sisters again.”
    Jiji ran to the bench and leaped–it was so high and she was so short–it was almost a miracle of levitation when she landed safely. “I don’t wanna talk about them. I wanna talk about fathers. You have one. Where’s mine?”