tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-108954202011-05-01T10:14:34.975Zhachikohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17958609077542956833noreply@blogger.comBlogger411100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10895420.post-1124495167676334412005-08-19T23:45:00.000Z2005-08-19T23:46:07.680Z

Apparently his email address is a heavily-guarded national secret. Does anybody have any ideas how to contact him?

hachikohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17958609077542956833noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10895420.post-1124189936100581142005-08-16T10:41:00.000Z2005-08-16T11:30:12.123Z

Oh dear God. There's a sexually transmitted disease I need to tell you about and it's called Chick Lit. Although it's not new, I feel compelled to point this out to everybody as the signs are not, as previously believed, totally bleeding obvious.Once upon a time it was assumed that by avoiding books featuring cover designs of stilettoes, handbags, or soft-focus photographs of attractive blond

hachikohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17958609077542956833noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10895420.post-1123483749282587332005-08-08T06:48:00.000Z2005-08-08T11:11:14.596Z

When it comes to reading, I am inherently suspicious of anything too clever. Call me a literary Luddite, but when people start writing Chapter Ones on the inside flap of covers, printing whole stories onto book spines, and that sort of thing, I do get disoriented. What next, I think to myself, an inside-out book?I was therefore relieved to find that The Best Of McSweeney's: Volume 1 (ed. Dave

hachikohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17958609077542956833noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10895420.post-1122974317808855482005-08-02T09:18:00.000Z2005-08-02T10:29:00.556Z

Alright, maybe in hindsight it was a slight overreaction. I'm a stuffed toy, I was never going to be hanging around any high-risk areas, that much is true. And I might also add here that I never supported Bush's invasion of Iraq. But just as I had managed to console myself over the first round of bombings with second and third helpings of fried breakfasts, along came the news of more attempts and

hachikohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17958609077542956833noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10895420.post-1121212366434384422005-07-12T23:47:00.000Z2005-07-13T00:40:57.616Z

Well, I haven't been in the best of moods this week, for the obvious reasons. I've been home alone and glued to Sky News, working myself up into a right state. However Londoners, being the pragmatic, stiff-upper-lip, thoroughly British people that they are, seem to have collectively decided to pick themselves up off the pavement and simply get on with it. Aw, these guys. I'm so proud to be

hachikohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17958609077542956833noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10895420.post-1120663260630151892005-07-06T15:20:00.000Z2005-07-06T16:12:04.286Z

Oh dear, I've been a bit of a bad dog, haven't I. Call off the search party, Hachiko's home.I wouldn't even know where to begin explaining these last, lost, six weeks. Honestly, when Mistress said she was looking forward to heading out east, I thought she meant Bethnal Green, so I jumped in her handbag. Next thing I knew, I had woken up in Warsaw. Fortunately for both of us, I am the adaptable

hachikohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17958609077542956833noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10895420.post-1116408212429144232005-05-18T09:23:00.000Z2005-05-18T10:01:31.096Z

I've never been much of a soap opera fan. I just can't get interested in the petty psychodramas of those cardboard characters' lives. That goes double for Australian soaps- the twangy accent is simply too much to bear.But sitcoms- yippee!! Another dish of dog food altogether. The British have always been the best at sitcoms, in my humble opinion: The Young Ones, Fawlty Towers, Blackadder, The

hachikohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17958609077542956833noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10895420.post-1116059770630170042005-05-14T08:35:00.000Z2005-05-14T09:34:32.196Z

The parcel arrived at lunchtime and I waited at the window until I saw the deliveryman get into his car and drive off before going outside to collect the parcel. Tomoko was sunning herself on the window ledge with eyes half closed, and pretended not to notice what I was doing. With Tomoko's challenge still smarting my ears, I pulled off the wrapping and took the lid off the box inside. Somewhere

hachikohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17958609077542956833noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10895420.post-1115710086420275332005-05-10T07:27:00.000Z2005-05-10T15:02:11.716Z

I like to think of myself as a progressive pup, in tune with the greater issues of the day. I'm responsible and informed, and I have a social conscience. Or at least that's what I thought until this morning. "Hachiko," Tomoko piped up as we were waiting for Mistress to wake up."Wot" I said gruffly. "Do you realise that we're bad for the environment?" she said, her dark eyes shining up at me."

hachikohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17958609077542956833noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10895420.post-1115470599946277762005-05-07T18:30:00.000Z2005-05-07T17:49:40.406Z

Every so often when it blows really hard outside, the wind will carry down the scent of halal fried chicken from the shop up the road, causing my ears to prick up and my hunting dog instincts to rise to the surface. I'm normally a pacifist through and through (if I'd had a vote this week, it wouldn't have gone to Tony), but there's something about the smell of deep-fried meat that just makes my

hachikohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17958609077542956833noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10895420.post-1115151052310702832005-05-03T22:01:00.000Z2005-05-03T21:02:11.336Z

This time last week, I was really looking forward to enjoying my bank holiday weekend. Mistress was due to go to Normandy on an overnight ferry for three blissful days romping around D-Day beaches and viewing all the local sights, such as the Bayeux tapestry (which, I am told on good authority, contains numerous scenes depicting nudity and sex, ooh-er! And you thought it was all about war). I was

hachikohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17958609077542956833noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10895420.post-1114799866444755212005-04-29T18:37:00.000Z2005-04-29T19:29:54.146Z

I must apologise in advance; I do get a bit silly sometimes. Usually it's when I've had too much Battenburg cake for afternoon tea. But don't you think, everything sounds so much better (and a little bit naughtier) en francais? I certainly do, which is why I use it at every available opportunity, even when doing something as mundane as housework.As I was frantically doing the dishes today to get

hachikohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17958609077542956833noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10895420.post-1114442138388448292005-04-25T15:07:00.000Z2005-04-26T20:12:53.826Z

Have I told you about our new houseguest yet? Mistress picked her up from the Serpentine gallery the day they dismantled the Tomoko Takahashi installation. The stupid dog acts like she's a player on the international art scene, but we both know she's nothing more than a pawn.She's so stuck up, she hasn't said a word to me since she arrived. What a wet blanket...and I'm not referring to that dumb

hachikohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17958609077542956833noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10895420.post-1114359636619974412005-04-24T18:15:00.000Z2005-04-25T08:03:45.116Z

Right now any pop culture maven worth their salt is going to be counting down the days impatiently until the film version of The Hitch-Hikers Guide To The Galaxy is released at their local cinema, which, for those of us living in the UK and the US, is next Friday the 29th April- Yippee!!It's too difficult for me to explain what Hitch-Hikers is to anybody who hasn't read the books, and in any case

hachikohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17958609077542956833noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10895420.post-1114005179467953932005-04-20T13:52:00.000Z2005-04-20T23:15:43.973Z

Though I like to fancy myself as a perceptive social commentator of world culture and events, I do find sometimes my thoughts aren't as topical or relevant as they possibly could be. This morning I was racking my brains for some analysis on the election of the new Pope, an angle on the upcoming British elections, the accuracy of Nicole Kidman's eastern European (?) accent in The Interpreter. But

hachikohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17958609077542956833noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10895420.post-1113574038905126632005-04-15T14:06:00.000Z2005-04-15T14:28:29.913Z

I don't know if I've ever mentioned it, but although Mistress loves dogs, she's terribly allergic to the real things. That's why she has me. Unfortunately she also has the occasional blue-faced bout of asthma, and then I end up in the doghouse because I'm apparently bursting at the seams with triggers like dust mites. The dog house that I refer to is of course metaphorical (It hardly needs

hachikohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17958609077542956833noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10895420.post-1113373371803324082005-04-13T06:22:00.000Z2005-04-13T06:35:31.910Z

Generally speaking, one tries not to associate with fighting dog breeds if one can help it. They're not known particularly for their intelligence. However, there is one bulldog currently on my radar who is quite impressive indeed; I take my metaphorical hat off to him. He lives somewhere in North America, and goes by the name of Tyson. This is his website, which is devoted to his skateboarding

hachikohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17958609077542956833noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10895420.post-1113049589249153502005-04-09T12:26:00.000Z2005-04-09T12:51:54.646Z

Since the gorgeous queen mum passed on, I must admit I haven't been the biggest fan of the monarchy; but whenever a royal event happens I still can't help but be completely mesmerised by the pomp and ceremony of it all. Today was the date for the wedding of the year, that is, Charles and Camilla, who I do secretly like to think of as the Princess Consort (with its vague hint of impropriety).And

hachikohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17958609077542956833noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10895420.post-1112770780360454592005-04-06T06:58:00.000Z2005-04-09T12:59:46.650Z

Does anybody else (besides my friends and me here) think it would be a good idea to merge two of the best consumer electronic products to have appeared in the last 5 years- the Sony Aibo and the Apple iPod- into a single product? I must admit, it took me a while to become comfortable with the idea of artificial intelligence after watching Space Odyssey: 2001 . It's especially creepy when robots

hachikohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17958609077542956833noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10895420.post-1112460198524730962005-04-02T16:42:00.000Z2005-04-02T18:01:27.683Z

Oooh blimey, but it's nice to be back in old Blighty. I've got that song by Simon and Garfunkel in my head: Jeepers it's great to be back home! Home is where I wanna be!When we got home, Mistress went straight to the bathroom to have a hot bath. The first thing I did when I crawled out of her carry-on was to stagger to the kitchen for a nice cup of PG Tips. Now don't call me British, but you

hachikohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17958609077542956833noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10895420.post-1112206548274345442005-03-30T18:08:00.000Z2005-04-01T12:07:56.606Z

This morning I was thinking: There must be a million and one themed tours you can do around New York City. However, as far as I was aware, no-one had yet created a Catcher in the Rye tour. Others may aspire to salivate at the window displays of overpriced shoe boutiques favoured by fictional newspaper columnists with Tardis wardrobes, or to seek out the subway grate made famous by a certain 20th

hachikohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17958609077542956833noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10895420.post-1111858250720300332005-03-26T17:30:00.000Z2005-03-26T18:38:52.233Z

I was getting a bit fed up with all the New York cabbies honking at me (clearly, a toy dog with 2 and 1/2 inch legs is not going to be able to cross the road as quickly as the other pedestrians), so I decided to take a break and hitchhike it upstate, on Long Island. Remind me never to do it again- or at least to wear more than a wee scarf next time. Honestly, at times I was quite afeared I was

hachikohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17958609077542956833noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10895420.post-1111357419691083922005-03-20T22:21:00.002Z2005-03-20T23:38:40.473Z

You can very easily get art-ed out in New York. It's not just the number of galleries and museums in the city (I heard 120 from one source, but there must be a gazillion galleries in Chelsea alone, clustered between 9th and 10th avenues like fleas on a mutt's juicy backside), or the distance you have to schlepp to get to each one of them, but the complete bollocks you have to listen to from guys

hachikohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17958609077542956833noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10895420.post-1111189668798719762005-03-18T23:46:00.000Z2005-03-19T01:51:17.326Z

Ooh, day three in New York; I'm as happy as a pup can be. My mistress was delayed in the customs queue coming into JFK which wasvery opportune for me as I snuck out after the suitcase got out ontothe carousel, after which I made my way in on the subway. It was a bitscary and grim at first, especially being a little white-dog, butattention was conveniently deflected by a 16-stone, topless,

hachikohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17958609077542956833noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10895420.post-1110835664915754692005-03-14T21:23:00.000Z2005-03-14T21:27:44.916Z

hachikohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17958609077542956833noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10895420.post-1110730171418559172005-03-13T16:00:00.000Z2005-03-20T22:26:18.016Z

I was eavesdropping on my mistress on the phone this afternoon- and would you Adam and Eve it, she's off to New York next week for a holiday! At first I was a tad disgruntled that she hadn't invited me along, but after a moment's contemplation (although, I am ashamed to admit, not before I had resentfully laddered her favourite pair of patterned tights), I realised it was probably to my advantage

hachikohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17958609077542956833noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10895420.post-1110636726682235412005-03-12T13:39:00.000Z2005-03-12T14:47:41.826Z

Blah. Springtime always saps the motivation out of me. While the rest of London celebrates the return of sunshine this week by rushing to the nearest green space and taking their tops off, I've been stagnating in a state of soporific solar inebriation. Young men's thoughts may be turning lightly to love, but mine are kind of contemplating the ice-cold water at the bottom of the toilet bowl. I

hachikohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17958609077542956833noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10895420.post-1110402101082614672005-03-09T21:01:00.000Z2005-03-09T21:45:30.190Z

Me, I'm not the most winter-loving pup by a long shot, but this year there's one thing making me wish it stays cold right through till next winter.That thing is, of course, the Boho trend that is very apparently going to be The Look for spring and summer this year in London. If that's not causing excrutiatingly loud alarm bells to go off in your head immediately, let me elaborate: tiered

hachikohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17958609077542956833noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10895420.post-1110231055795045092005-03-07T20:15:00.000Z2005-03-08T08:08:24.103Z

World records amuse me no end. These days you can hold all sorts of records, simply by being the first one to think of actually doing it. For example, I'm quite certain that I am the holder of multiple world records, such as the number of words memorised from the Oxford English dictionary in one 24-hour period spent trapped underneath a table leg (51), the longest time spent staring at a blank

hachikohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17958609077542956833noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10895420.post-1110141517519075722005-03-06T20:38:00.000Z2005-03-06T23:58:20.636Z

Being a dog, I'm hungry pretty much around the clock. If there's something to be eaten somewhere, you can bet I'll be lurking nearby. Fortunately my mistress likes her food almost as much as I do. Yesterday was shopping day, which means the cupboards are currently fertile foraging grounds. Yippee!After wading through a forest of dried herbs, I located some prawn-cracker style crisps with a

hachikohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17958609077542956833noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10895420.post-1110032763617702242005-03-05T13:53:00.000Z2005-03-05T16:24:13.616Z

I bet you nine-to-fivers out there think that others couldn't possibly appreciate the weekend as much as you do, right? Well, it's not true. My favourite time of the week happens to be Saturday afternoon. This is when my mistress, having bought her weekend newspaper earlier that morning from the corner off-license, leaves me home alone while she goes off to the local farmers' markets. I rather

hachikohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17958609077542956833noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10895420.post-1109880502900829412005-03-03T20:07:00.000Z2005-03-03T22:46:37.106Z

Good Lord, what is going on with Sarah Jessica Parker?I was intently enjoying my last 15 minutes of Desperate Housewives (a simply perfect little peach of a show, except for the fact that none of the so-called suburban households have dogs), when during the ad break, I witnessed a stomach-churning 30 seconds of TV footage that completely shattered my concentration for the rest of the episode.I am

hachikohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17958609077542956833noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10895420.post-1109708456076911752005-03-01T20:13:00.000Z2005-03-01T20:53:55.176Z

Ce soir, the spazzy-crazy San Francisco band the Coachwhips is playing at the Artrocker night at the Buffalo Bar in Highbury Islington.Typically, while all this fun is going on, I'll be sitting at home, listening to them on the computer.Grr. Purse PeekinYes I'm Down

hachikohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17958609077542956833noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10895420.post-1109628495153507172005-02-28T22:03:00.000Z2005-02-28T22:41:12.630Z

I like reading during my bathtime. It's one of the chief pleasures of my simple canine life. Tonight I was perusing the pleasantly weighty Meat cookbook by Mr Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall, meat farmer, chef, restauranteur, cookery writer, and overall cheery-looking chap.Call it a morbid fascination, but I really enjoy looking through cookbooks that show you what food actually looks like before it

hachikohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17958609077542956833noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10895420.post-1109546821175720392005-02-27T23:23:00.000Z2005-02-28T00:28:53.846Z

GgrrroooOOwl!Today a Banksy print arrived in the post. Now for those of you who are not au fait, Banksy is a Bristol artist who has made his name by graffiti-ing on everything from bridges to billboards to farmyard animals. His work is satirical, political, and now it would seem, also highly marketable. But what does political graffiti art become when the same image is reproduced on nice,

hachikohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17958609077542956833noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10895420.post-1109412767103035142005-02-26T10:12:00.000Z2005-02-26T10:47:39.170Z

As usual, I was left home alone last night while my mistress went out on the town straight from work. I'd had a nerve-shattering day listening to the alcoholic upstairs thumping and careening around his apartment, and by 7pm I decided it was definitely time for a drink. I got down the top-shelf gin, and rinsed out the espresso cup in the sink. While I was scrummaging around for some nibblies I

hachikohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17958609077542956833noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10895420.post-1109186997183207302005-02-23T19:29:00.000Z2005-02-24T17:27:46.020Z

I was re-reading my last blog entry just now and I realised that both of the songs I uploaded the other night had feline associations!Is there some sort of weird Freudian thing going on I wonder?Let me state here and now that dogs are unequivocally the superior creatures. So are dog people (like my mistress). My namesake, Hachiko, is an uber-celebrity in Japan, despite having been dead for over

hachikohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17958609077542956833noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10895420.post-1109106834657511802005-02-22T21:12:00.000Z2005-02-22T23:54:56.700Z

I don't get out nearly enough to see bands. Luckily there's Limewire. I download music virtually every day. It's the only way I get to listen to anything new.This first song is called Black Cat Bone. I don't have a clue who the artist is, but this is the song I was rocking out to in the photo above:Black Cat BoneThis track is so French, even though it actually isn't. It's the LCD Soundsystem

hachikohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17958609077542956833noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10895420.post-1109012977397422272005-02-21T19:09:00.000Z2005-02-24T17:30:33.073Z

I was feeling a bit peckish round about morning tea time today, so I decided to raid the fridge.I came across a bar of cake. Yippee! I thought, and turned it over to read the label:B-a-t-t-e-n-b-e-r-g C-a-k-e. Carefully peeling away the cellophane, I saw that it had a pink and yellow chequerboard cross-section. English cuisine will never cease to amaze me. Considering I was born in China, where

hachikohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17958609077542956833noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10895420.post-1108830379770553742005-02-19T16:25:00.000Z2005-04-24T17:51:01.570Z

Normalcy is a sign of poverty of the spirit. - Karl Jaspers

hachikohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17958609077542956833noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10895420.post-1108822243094451902005-02-19T13:56:00.000Z2005-02-21T20:51:10.370Z

It's quite boring being a stuffed toy dog. For one thing, employment and education opportunities tend to be a bit thin on the ground for my sort, so you end up spending your days surfing the internet, browsing through the contents of your mistress' underwear drawer, or just plain staring into space. There's not a lot of scope for development for the more ambitious of us out there. No

hachikohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17958609077542956833noreply@blogger.com0