As long as I’m alive - Looking back on Memories with Mitchie

Right now, I am currently listening to a concert with Kazumi Watanabe playing at a hotel in Ishinomaki. During a beautiful duet between piano and guitar, a piece started about children who lost their parents and they wish that they could meet their parents again someday when they see a rainbow. For whatever reason, I was really moved by this piece. When we lose a loved one, we are so sad that we lose sight of ourselves and fall into despair. But when people see a rainbow, suddenly they remember how to hope for the future, and they find the courage to live again, to do their best even if life is hard. For those of us who live between life and death, the most important thing is to keep going with the life that we have been given.

I wondered if there is such a person in my life whom I would like to see again. I can think of several friends whom I have not seen for decades and do not even know if they are still alive. As I enter the second half of my life into my 60s, the number of friends around me who have passed away is gradually increasing. The number of friends whom I would like to see again isn’t small. However, when I think about it, I realized that the “person” I would like to see the most right now is, surprisingly, one of the founding members of Sound House, Mitchie.

When I was still single in the States, he was always waiting for me at home. No matter how late I came home, he always welcomed me with a big smile. Sometimes I would come home so late that he would poop in the middle of the kitchen probably out of stress. He would glare at me, curled up in the corner as if he was complaining to me with his eyes, “You’re home too late!” I wonder if he was feeling guilty about something. Sometimes he would dig holes in the backyard to pass the time and loved killing the moles back there. I remember being so surprised to see the backyard full of holes. Even though he seemed to always be grumbling to me with his expressive face, he was always waiting for me.

I returned to Japan from the States in 1988 with Mitchie. Mitchie came from a good family. His parents’ pedigree was excellent, and his father was the grandson of Sunstreak, a golden retriever who left his mark on the history of golden retrievers. Because of his excellent lineage, Mitchie’s frame was firm and his coat was exceptionally beautiful. However, as soon as we boarded a plane together to return to Japan, we were confronted with an unexpected event.

Animal quarantine laws in Japan at that time were so one-sided and in-canane (inhumane but for dogs) that it could be called animal abuse and these rules were imposed on us upon entry into Japan. As a result, Mitchie could not avoid the long quarantine period, and was confined in a quarantine kennel, or a small cage, under the jurisdiction of Narita Airport for two months. After spending three years experiencing the freedom of a big backyard in the States, the shock of suddenly being locked up in a small kennel must have been quite a shock for him. It was like a human being suddenly being thrown into a prison cell and spending two months locked up. Who would have been able to endure it? If it were me, I think I would lose my mind and no one would listen to me screaming, “Get me out of here!” Just thinking about life in a cell is terrifying. But that is what happened to Mitchie.

The results were disastrous. Mitchie was very depressed. When he came out of quarantine two months later, he came back to me emaciated and was reduced to skin and bones. I immediately took him to a veterinary clinic, where the doctor examined him and diagnosed him as being malnourished. I felt a sense of shame when I realized that this was the reality of the Japanese quarantine system. All of a sudden, a healthy and happy dog is confined to a small cage and then becomes mentally deranged, is unable to eat properly, and is reduced to nothing but skin and bones. It felt tempting to yell at someone, “You idiot!” but you don’t even know who that someone is. Is that the trap of the government?

After that awful event, Mitchie gradually regained his strength, and before long he became an employee of Sound House and came to work with me every day. From the very beginning of the company’s establishment, he was guarding the yard of the Yamada Tailor Shop and he would bark loudly at any suspicious person who came by. Also, when driving, if the bed of a pickup truck was open, he would jump in and poke his head out of the bed as if to glide through the wind when the car started moving. After our office moved to the new building in front of the Lions Mansion, he would always hang around the office and sneak up on anyone who would give him a treat. Before long, Mitchie had become the mascot of Sound House.

So then, after the opening of Yamato no Yu and the business got on track, Mitchie’s post became mainly the hot spring. The staff at the spa loved him, and he was almost free to roam around the hot spring on his own. Then one day, I received a phone call from the spa staff informing me that Mitchie had suddenly passed away. He was found lying quietly in front of the back door of the spa. I remembered that a few days before his death when we were taking a walk together, Mitchie refused to walk for some reason and just stood there. He must have been very sick at that time. I didn’t notice it but I wondered why he didn’t want to walk. I still regret not noticing his condition at the time.

If I only could have spent a little more time to care for him, I would have been able to extend a loving hand to him so that he could eternally rest in peace. The important thing is that those warm feelings are still in my heart. My memories with him will always be good memories, a rainbow of hope in my heart. Death is not the end. A new life always continues from there. The soul is eternally alive. The cycle is the same for people as it is for Mitchie. The day will surely come when we will meet again. This is why I want to cherish the rainbow in my heart forever.

Mitchie watching everyone work in the warehouse