Aki-Essays: Charmy (1-24-09)

It was a cold night in Tokyo. Getting off the elevator in her condominium on its sixth floor, Takeko, 52, was coming back home holding two plastic bags filled with bought stuff. Nearing the entrance she heard something approaching on the other side of the door, making crescendo taps on the floor. Opening the door, Takeko again found her companion in her loyal position: Charmy, 10, a female dog (/Cavalier King Charles Spaniel), kept panting, welcoming Takeko’s return. What sort of loyalty was this? It must have been intended for edibles hidden within the plastic bags.

Some decades ago, more people must have owned dogs as a guard against perpetrators. But as time moved on, in accordance with the shift in the type of housing, from detached houses with yards to constricting condominiums, smaller and more social dogs had been garnering popularity amongst people. As a modern-day norm, people didn’t want their pet dogs to bark and cause trouble with neighbors. But Charmy immediately began yapping at Takeko, didn’t she? Yes, she did. What she was saying to Takeko, however, was probably something akin to, “Give me that food! I’m hungry!”

Takeko’s husband, over 60, was one of the old school. In the living room of the 3LDK condominium, the breadwinner, a construction worker, who was idle at home but whose presence was dominant nevertheless, kept sitting and watching TV while having his wife cater to him. Sometimes he was over-demanding, reducing Takeko’s sleep. [I don’t understand what you want to say with this sentence.] But even considering all the tasks assigned, she, so tolerant, could feel content, acting as the traditional sort of Japanese wife. And, Charmy was there.

Despite being naughty, Charmy was cute, a standard Cavalier, a Blenheim. Her long fur, a combination of ruby and white, was slightly matted. Every time Takeko held Charmy, such a fluffy female Cavalier responded by giving a comfortable sensation, a specialty. On top of that, Charmy became a practical warmer for Takeko in cold seasons. As they slept together, the live stuffed toy was so warm in bed that Takeko could fall asleep more easily. Stroked on the head, Charmy made inculpable eyes at the owner to express her affection, which were so lovely.

Still, Charmy had been mischievous since she was accepted by the family, as Cavaliers were known for their relatively high intelligence, calm personality (or dognality?), and ‘high disposition to play,’ and she was not an exception.

On one evening, I chatted with Takeko about Charmy over coffee in a cafe in Iidabashi.

Charmy loved to be taken out for a walk, but she often made her way on her own. Takeko said to me, “I wondered where Charmy went. I looked around, then found her. She was sitting on a stranger’s lap. The same kind of incidents sometimes happened when she was pretty small. She tended to like anyone.”

Before this occasion, I had heard from her some other stories about Charmy: that she loved pickled ume, a kind of plum; that she tended to eat grass on the field under rustling verdant tree leaves; and that during a walk an elderly lady petted her on the stomach into joyful laughter each time.

Actually I have met Charmy three times. She was unarguably cute, but freakish in behavior. Or just energetic? It must have been in spring or fall about two years ago (excuse me for my bad memory), I accompanied her walking. I witnessed her zigzagging across the road: she hurtled toward the other side of the road, hit the wall, and came back. Having arrived in the plaza near Takeko’s condo, which was fronted by the station, I crouched to be more level with Charmy but failed to draw her attention. She just kept jumping at each passer-by, but not at me. I would rather consider Charmy to be just a crazy dog.

Still, Charmy-related anecdotes kept running.

Charmy saw a veterinarian somewhat near the Kinshicho rail station. As dog owners must know, dogs see a vet every so often to not only go through health check-ups but get groomed as well. Last summer, I saw Charmy for the second time. I met up with Takeko with a portable dog-carry case about a boulevard near the Kameido station. Having crawled out of the case, a completely-shaved Cavalier looked quite pathetic. Her abashed face told me, “Don’t ogle at me.”

At home, Charmy often attempted to escape the mandatory application of eye lotion. She tried to hide behind a wall inside a room, but her whole body except the head was trembling, being open.

Takeko was slicing a watermelon, her favorite fruit. To preserve the whole piece and make it convenient to deal with it, Takeko cut it up into pieces, put them in a container and kept it inside the fridge every summer. During the process, Charmy yapped, importuning Takeko for a bite. To temper the appetite, Takeko gave her only a piece of the rind. Notwithstanding the quality of the deal, Charmy felt thankful, jumped at and ground her teeth on it.

Charmy loved pineapple too: “I love pineapple as well!”

Off the balcony on the sixth floor, whirlwinds seemed to be getting colder. Disrespectful to a man-made heater, Charmy often enjoyed sunbathing by the window panes. Through the opening between the curtains, shafts of sunlight brought some warmth in and invited her to sprawl out on the floor and nap.

A later day in the season, Charmy was a little grumpy, keeping yapping at Takeko, complaining of cloudy skies hiding the sun.

A recent day it was during my work that Takeko called me to communicate that Charmy was hospitalized, as she’d fallen into a severe health condition, suffering from pneumonia. (Charmy had been behaving unusually, as she would just curl up onto Takeko and had no appetite, according to what she said later.)

Three days later, I was allowed to accompany Takeko going to the vet hospital at night. On its second floor, in an icy metal/steel cubicle at the bottom (the set of those reminded me of rows of shelves which held shoeboxes), Charmy was sitting so quietly as an IV drip was running into her small, left front ankle, that the continuous barking of a dog in a separate cubicle made me perceive the volume to be even larger. In front of Charmy, a portion of served food looked intact in a container. As we had yet left the hospital hoping that Charmy would get well, chilly gusts were scorching my and Takeko’s minds.

After the hospitalization, Takeko told me that Charmy had a congenitally weak heart and it must have prompted the onset of pneumonia. Cavaliers were known for being subject to a weak heart of their own, and Charmy was no exception.

The next day, after work I saw Takeko at a restaurant near the Kinshicho station. She was hardly suppressing exhilaration in reporting that Charmy had gotten better and come back home, although some negative remarks would ensue for the following days: “But she is just sleeping and doesn’t welcome me having come back home, ask me for a walk nor eat food.”

“Charmy died.” The fifth morning after she left the hospital, Takeko’s voice was trembling across my cellular phone.

Later during the same day, Takeko told me: “Last night I came back home after shopping. I felt my heartbeat being faster as I heard approaching sounds behind the door. I opened the door, but Charmy was not there. Instead, my husband was standing upright and said, ‘Charmy died just now.’”

Takeko and I were having a conversation in the cafe near the Iidabashi station in the evening. We met up together after she witnessed Charmy be sent for cremation. It was the day after yesterday when she informed me of Charmy’s death, in the morning.

“As Charmy would be sent very soon, she was putting on a chaplet on each of her front ankles. Those chaplets were designed small so as to fit her ankles nicely,” Takeko said. (There had been another trembling voice of hers, which let me know that Charmy was gone for cremation.)


Given one cold winter night after her companion’s passing, Takeko helped Charmy’s eyes close. “Don’t worry, Charmy. I won’t give you eye lotion.” She looked around. In the living room, the short table had no electric heater attached underneath, ever since young Charmy was unwilling to come out to pee in the right place and left the mat wet.

When the family was having a hotpot, Charmy put her front paws on Takeko’s lap and made eyes at her, asking for some of the ingredients.

Takeko embraced the fluffy carcass, which was still tactile but no longer warm.

“Charmy, you feel cold, don’t you? Don’t worry, I warm you up,” Takeko draped a blanket over both of them.

“Charmy, let me share your dream, please.”