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| "Goodbye is too good a word, so I'll just say fare thee well."
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| you are so much more than your acquired
fears, dogmas, age-old beliefs, and superstitions
you are so much more than the child
of your upbringing
that is just the manger
you were born in
the leaves have already fallen
why not join them
to be reborn
in spring
your mechanical ways
have become dry and brittle
they will not fall by themselves
you must let them go
stop feeding them
deny them sunlight
death is seasonal
and the life within
that is waiting to be reborn
cannot blossom
unless you surrender
to letting winter
take its course
- Saul Williams
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| All these things in my life, dem a stain to remove
Beauty in our makeup, peace in a gun
Cut this picture of myself, in resistance prove
At least one of these colors does bleed and run
One of these colors does bleed and run
It's the war inside of us all.
- Strike Anywhere
Antidote
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At the Shibuya Station in Tokyo stands a bronze statue of Japan's most famous dog - an Akita named Hachiko who was renowned for his exemplary loyalty. In the early 1920s, a professor at the University of Tokyo adopted Hachiko from abandonment and took him in. Every morning, Hachiko would accompany Professor Ueno to the Shibuya train station and every evening he would walk to the station and await his master's return.
One day In 1925, Professor Ueno suffered a stroke while at work and died. He would not be returning home by train that night, but Hachiko waited for him just like every other night. In fact, for the next ten years, Hachiko made the same daily pilgrimage to the station, awaiting a master who would never come home. Only Hachiko's death in 1935 would finally end his nightly vigil.
Stories of Hachiko's undying devotion to his master began to spread across Japan. Articles and stories were written about him, songs were composed that young children learned in their schools. Hachiko became a national sensation, a paragon of not only model canine behavior, but of virtues that human beings should strive to achieve.
My Akita, Ayame, is far from an exemplary dog. Ever since I adopted her from a shelter three years ago, she has repaid me with mischief and mayhem. But she also loves me fiercely and is hopelessly devoted to me. I have little doubt that she would perish defending me if the circumstances ever warranted it. All it took was one scary late-night situation where Aya had my back for me to realize what a treasure she is. Suddenly, all the indoor potty accidents, stolen pizzas, and even the misdemeanor "animal at large" charge (long story) seemed like trivial prices to pay for the unyielding devotion of such a wonderful (and formidable) Akita.
But do we deserve it? As Japan began to lose World War II, times got tough. the original statue of Hachiko was melted down for metal. It became illegal to own and feed dogs. Any dogs that weren't of certain working breeds such as German Shepherds were rounded up and killed and their pelts used to make winter coats for soldiers. When the war ended, there were only 16 Akitas left in the entire country. Only through the dedication of a few individuals was the Akita breed saved and restored to its position as a national treasure of Japan.
Contemporary Americans like to claim that they love their pets. Indeed 60% of households own pets. Nonetheless, millions of dogs are put to death every year after they are abandoned and wind up in animal shelters. Dog ownership has become subsumed to the same consumerism that characterizes so many other aspects of American life. Too many people buy cute little puppies as if they are toys and then discard them as soon as they become inconvenient, like used couches left by the dumpster of an apartment building on moving day. If it is true that dog is man's best friend, then what kind of friend are we in return?
Some people say that animals don't have souls, but I can't see how any dog owner could possibly think that.
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