Photo of the Week - Meijin

This is Meijin. He is originally from Bhaktapur, Nepal. Now he lives with me in Nasik, India. He's four years old.

Here's how I met him (this is a reposting of an old blog 'How I Met Meijin')

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I first saw Meijin in an alley in Bhaktapur, Nepal. I’m not sure what made me turn in there – after visiting the nearby Wood Sculpture Museum I was going to walk in the opposite direction. But some instinct made me turn around into this alley. And there he was, one of two large, fat, black and tan puppies, cradled in the lap of a middle-aged Newari man. Quite a few people were gathered around them and the man was arguing somewhat indignantly with a lady washing clothes at an adjoining tap. She had a white and brown bitch with several fat and large, white and brown puppies swarming around and apparently she had just told him that her puppies were better than his.

“These are pure Bhutia puppies!” he snapped. “You won’t find such good puppies anywhere in Nepal! You’re comparing your street dogs with mine?”

“Dogs are dogs!” she retorted and washed her sheets with extra vigor.

The man saw me standing there and said, “Are these good puppies or not?”
“They are beautiful puppies,” I said.

“Bhutia puppies,” he said. “You’re a tourist? You want to buy?”

“You’re selling?”

“If you’re buying, I’m selling. I got them from my village up in the mountains.” He got up from his cane stool and offered me the puppies. I took the one that had caught my eye.

The woman stopped her washing and came to see what was happening. So did the rest of the neighbors.

“How much?”

“Rs. 4500.”

“Rs. 4500?” I repeated, more with curiosity than any serious intention to buy.

“They are good, sound puppies!” he said defensively.

“Good, sound puppies, my foot!” said the washer-woman and grabbed the puppy from me. “You want to see how sound this one is?” she said and held him up by the ears.

I had seen this custom previously – the puppy that endures such treatment is supposed to be a good one. This one screamed his head off and my decision was made – after all, I would scream too if someone held me up by the ears.

“I’m taking him,” I said, snatching him back.

“Pshaw!” said the woman in disgust.

“4500!” said the man in delighted anticipation.

“3500!” I countered.

———-

Only thing is we were talking in broken Hindi – broken on their side since their language was a Nepali dialect – and broken on my side, because I have always had a problem figuring out Hindi and Marathi numbers.

It’s more psychological than because I didn’t do my early schooling in India – I also used to have trouble telling the time and for a long time hid behind digital watches – until my Ma caught me out one afternoon and explained things from scratch – when the big hand is here and when the small hand is here….

But she could never do anything about the block against Hindi and Marathi numbers and it used to be a real trial traveling to and fro from school. Lots of older people used to ask me the time and, after waiting the ten seconds that it still took me to figure out where the big hand was and where the small hand was, they would get it in English -

“It’s quarter to one.”

“Mhanje? Marathit sangta yet nahi kai?” (What? Can’t you tell me in Marathi?”)

“Nahi, English madhech yeta. “ (No, I only know it in English)

“Arechha! Aani mala English yet nahi!” (Drat! And I don’t know English)

“Jawu dya. Duparach zaliye.” (Never mind. It’s afternoon)

“Ho. Te distaya.” (Yes, I can see that)

“Ma vicharta kashalaya?” (Then why’re you asking?”)

Sometimes, rather than act out this farce every time, I used to keep my watch in my pocket rather than wear it on my wrist.

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Curiously, I did very well in Algebra, Geometry, and, even, Calculus. But ask me to recite Hindi and Marathi numbers, and it’s hopeless. Same thing with English Grammar Rules, I find their definitions terribly confusing.

————

But, to get back to the matter at hand, I had meant to say, “Rs. 3500.”

What I actually said was, “Rs. 350.”

Atleast this is better than another bargaining episode where the man said, “Rs. 80!” and I said, “Rs. 90!” You ought to have seen the temporary smile that illuminated his face.

Anyway, this man stopped smiling and all the neighbors stared at me in awe. This was some bargaining – bringing it straight down from 4500 to 350!!

“350!” the man exclaimed in outrage. “For this precious puppy!”

“Yes,” I said, still unclear about the mistake. “That’s all I can afford.”

“350!” he cried and took the puppy back. “You wouldn’t get it for less than Rs. 20,000 back in India!”

The washer-woman touched my arm. “I give you one of my puppies,” she offered. She hauled up one and held it by the ears. It made no sound. “See? Good puppy? I give it to you for Rs. 2000.”

The man instantly shoved his puppy back at me and said, “2000!”

“2000?” I said in surprise, thinking what a lousy businessman – who else would ask for 2000 when I was offering, ahem, 3500?

“2000 and it’s all yours!!”

“2000 for that dog!” said the woman.

“Hey, stop spoiling my business!” the man snapped at her.

As a heated argument developed between them, the puppy snuggled against me, burrowing his head in the crook of my elbow as if to cut out the din, and I fished out my wallet with the other hand.

“Rs. 2000,” I said.

Instantly the argument ceased. The man grabbed the money with both hands and quickly stuffed it into an inside pocket of his tattered coat. The crowd cheered. The woman snorted, picked up her tub and stamped away inside through her doorway, all her dogs following.

“Thank you,” I said to the man.

“This is the best dog in all of Nepal!” he assured me.

————

Back at the hotel, watching the best dog in all of Nepal race around the room with my shoe, I decided his name was Meijin.



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Here is Meijin looking particularly fierce. He had some aggression issues when he was a puppy - if he didn't like something, he would switch from sweet to savage with such speed it was scary - but we worked through that with clicker training, positive reinforcement and some helpful suggestions from the members at Agbeh.

We're working on search and find at present, and we both enjoy that very much. I'm glad I went online to seek help, rather than going with a local trainer the vet recommended. Many of the trainers here follow the 'old-fashioned' training methods, which usually involve punishments and rough corrections. I once saw one of them work with the neighbor's dog, wielding a stick and yanking hard at the choke chain, and I thought, no way I'm ever going to let anyone do that to my dogs. I have to mention here that my other two dogs, Munchkin, 11,  and Chubary, 6, are both local breeds and never once displayed the type of frenzied aggression that Meijin did.

Anyway,  that sort of training would have ruined him. He's very intelligent, he likes to have things explained to him, he does not like being ordered around or threatened or yelled at or being forced anymore than I do. It is important to respect your dog as an individual, to build up trust and liking rather than fear and submission, and clicker training has certainly helped us understand each other better.

I told the vet about it, so he would pass it on to his other clients and perhaps it'll help them too. The problem is some people like having an aggressive dog that nobody can manage, they somehow think it's a good thing.

A gentleman in the area has a six-month old bull mastiff that he is afraid of already, and there's a chap with a quite dangerous rottweiler - it has bitten him four times and recently it went for his mother when she ordered it off the bed; it bit her on her arm, going right down to the bone, and if she hadn't grabbed a chair and hurled it at the dog and got out of the room and slammed the door, it would have gone for her neck.

And these people still get a kick out of telling everyone what an aggressive creature their dog is. The vet said he has given up treating some of these animals. It's too risky for me, he told the owners, which probably only bolstered their egos more. Some people really shouldn't keep animals.