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.