A yelp for help
By Matt Hodges (China Daily)
Updated: 2010-05-18 09:47
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Shanghai's designer dogs are increasingly coping with the stress of city living by turning to traditional Chinese medicine. Matt Hodges is hot on the trail
Barred from most of the city's parks and engaged in an ongoing fashion parade, life is tough for Shanghai's designer dogs, who are increasingly seeking therapy to offload the stress associated with living in a crowded Asian metropolis.
Made to wear perms, pink leather jackets and even bikinis, designer dogs like the Bichon Frise are turning to acupuncture, healing fragrances and counseling.
"Often, if dogs have a problem they fix it themselves," says Japan's Asuka Ashida, a certified Traditional Chinese Medicine (TCM) doctor in Shanghai. "But lately I've heard that many dogs here are getting stressed, because they can feel human stress. They have a kind of sixth sense. They even get bald patches."
With property prices skyrocketing, traffic congestion worsening and nowhere for them to run, dogs are feeling the heat and striking back: City officials claim that over 10,000 residents were bitten in 2008.
With a shortage of public places for them to let off steam, acupuncture is emerging as a private-sector way of getting miffed mutts to calm down. Asuka says she began experimenting with her pet's pressure points to stop it going barking mad.
"I put 10 needles in the area around his head, but it didn't help much with the barking. However, if I do it seriously, it works to relax the animal, having the same effect as it does on humans," she says. "It can heal problems like back ache, sore feet and stress."
Kamata Yumiko, also from Japan, believes that dogs respond more to aromas and oils than stainless steel. For 250 yuan ($37) a session, she counsels Shanghai's residents on which herbal remedy can lay their pet's demons to rest.
"The remedies control a dog's anger and sadness. They can make it more healthy," says Kamata, who buys her goods from an English company. "Now business is going up."
"My friend in Japan talks to dogs. She's a dog therapist," says Kamata's neighbor, Coco. "She teaches them how to socialize. I don't know how she does it, maybe with her eyes or body language. One dog told her it loved its blanket."
Ten years ago it was tough to spot a pedigree with a pedicure on the streets of China's commercial hub. Now they can be seen in all the city's well-to-do neighborhoods, with dressed-to-kill "Barbie dogs" ranking alongside SUVs and iPads as the latest status symbol of the moneyed class.
"I remember seeing dogs dressed up in fancy outfits five years ago but now it's much more common," says Xue Yingjing, a 20-year-old traditional Chinese dancer. "The thing is, these days owners tend to spoil their dogs and treat them like their own children."
Coco sells handbag-sized Chinese qipao (450 yuan), Japanese kimonos (1,200 yuan), bridal gowns and superman outfits at her dog accessories shop in Tianzifang. She said the latest trend of splurging on pets reflects the changing economic dynamic in the region.
"Now, we're selling lots of lollipop candy, which at 35 yuan a stick isn't cheap," she says.
"Before, $300 dog kimonos were selling like hotcakes in Japan, but now Japanese aren't prepared to spend as much, while Shanghainese are shelling out more and more. They used to say '500 yuan is too expensive'. Now they say, 'Oh, it's so cute!'"
The ranks of dog owners are also swelling, with 164,000 new dog licenses issued by Shanghai police in 2008, according to a report by The Guardian.
In September of that year, the 12th Pet Fair Asia attracted 17,000 visitors to the city, half of them professional trade buyers.
The competition to show one's prosperity through pet-hood has become so fierce here that owners can and do purchase all manner of accessories, from sunglasses to neckties and sneakers, to outdo their neighbors.
Halloween is a bumper harvest for the market, with Little Emperor and cosplay video game outfits available for as little as 30 yuan ($4.40) online.
Dogs can even get their nails painted, visit deep sea mud spas, enjoy lavish birthday parties and, in extreme cases, get married - in a tux.
"We see about two or three dogs a week in the winter, because it's cold, but more in the summer," says Dr Huang at the Dog and Cat Animal Hospital, which charges 260 yuan ($38) for a two-hour mud massage for a small dog.
"Owners here aren't very careful about their pet's health, so I think if someone were to educate people about this they would be very popular."
This is one of a number of anomalies caused by the city's rapid social and economic growth. Much of the population has an in-bred fear of dogs; others like to feast on dog meat at the city's plethora of Korean restaurants.
As licenses are prohibitively expensive - around 2,000 yuan a year - an estimated 80-85 percent of owners gamble on not being caught.
Meanwhile, public awareness campaigns to take better care of pets have not had a strong impact.
"My friend from Taiwan bought a dog here, a toy poodle mixed with something. It wasn't very cute, but it was a lovely dog. One day she came to my shop and said her two dogs weren't getting along, so could I take care of it? Then she just left. She totally saw it as a toy," Coco says.
Teddy Bears are a case in point. One of the most popular breeds in the city, they look like rag dolls with hair that never stops growing - allowing owners to ditch Barbie and play with endless permutations of hairstyles.
But beware mistaking your animal for a little mannequin, as today's cross-dressing could lead to tomorrow's psychiatric session.
"Doing these things to your dog definitely has some sort of impact on it psychologically," Coco says. "If I put ribbons in my dog's hair, it acts cute for three days then reverts to normal. He used to wolf down his food, but after I took him to the hair salon, he started eating more daintily."