In Which I Pose as Paparazzo to Parakeets, Pogonas, and Peekapoos
A Record of Pets Living the Good Life
When I applied for the grant that has supported my time in Taiwan for the past nine months, I was required to propose a “public outreach” component of my work. This blog is that portion of my proposal. And I’m quite certain that, all things being equal, the readers of my application anticipated that I would be blogging about research.
Well, I feel like I’ve kept my side of the bargain and dutifully kept my blog (even if the schedule has been a little erratic these past few weeks.) And I hope we can all agree that I have, by and large, blogged about experiences, places, and events that relate to my research (or that can at the very least be crowbarred into my research narrative.)
The truth, though, is that a large part of why I proposed this blog is because I knew that there would be things that I want to remember from my time in Taipei. Many of those things I want to remember do, in fact, have to do with my research.
But another subset of things I want to remember has nothing to do with research. Rather, they’re the little details of daily life here that spark joy, and that I wouldn’t throw out for all the Marie Kondos in the world. (Fwiw, Marie Kondo is also apparently over throwing things out.)
Today is one of those selfish records of my personal existence that I don’t want to forget.
What is it I don’t want to forget, you might be thinking? Well, gee, thanks for asking! In fact, what I don’t want to forget is Taipei’s incredibly distinctive pet culture. During my wanderings around the city, I have seen countless pets, from the ridiculous to the cute, and from the ridiculously cute to the cutely ridiculous. On certain lucky occasions, I have even managed to capture a snapshot of them.
So even if my daily life here in Taipei is of little interest to you, please read on for photos a glamorously windswept puppy, a hamster on the subway, and a bearded dragon in a bowler hat. (Despite the title of this post, I regret to inform all and sundry that, on the occasions in which I have seen birds at large, I have frequently been too slow on the draw to capture the moment. Thus, the most iconic bird moments during my time in Taipei live on in my memory only. I can only beg forgiveness for my clickbait title. I hope that the literal top-hatted lizards included here will provide adequate compensation.)
Madam Shitzu, Your Chariot Awaits
I’ve lived in New York and LA, so I thought I had it down when it comes to recognizing dogs living the good life.
Let me tell you, those North American pups are slumming it.
The most basic indicator on which I base this sentence is the prevalence of dog strollers here. And they are truly ubiquitous (as in, easily outnumbering actual human strollers, at least in the areas of town that I frequent.) Come rain or shine, heat wave or “winter” weather (friends who have been through polar vortexes would certainly think of Taiwan winter as beach weather-adjacent), these dogs are happily pushed hither and yon in their puppy prams. Dealing with stairs? Don’t worry, my little Pomeranian princess, we’ll enlist passersby to help get your stroller down without forcing you off your perch. Are the trains packed cheek-to-jowl at rush hour? Fret thee not, my little dachshund despot, we can trust the press of passengers to part pliantly around your palanquin. Is there a chance of rain? Despair not, beagle baron mine, we have a sequined jump suit to keep you dry (equally suited to a later trip to the doggy disco.)
When I first arrived in Taipei, I always felt a little awkward gawping at these push-propelled poodles, pugs, and Pekingese. Later, however, I realized that, in most cases, not only was it ok to stare, most of these dogs’ staff members are more than willing to stop and help their canine companions pose for photos. As such, if you are interested in opening up a business whose main enterprise is the creation of wholesome puppy memes, you should probably consider establishing your headquarters in Taipei.
Let’s be honest, though, dogs are kind of old news. We’ve all seen people out walking their dogs. We all know they (the dogs, that is) are cute. But some of the pets I’ve seen in Taipei are of an altogether less common variety. And even where they’re relatively common animal companions, they often crop up in situations that altogether less common.
Sir Squirrel, It’s Time for Your Constitutional
A very early example of eye-catching pets was on the subway, when I happened to glimpse a hamster out for a fieldtrip. Housed in a compact pink-roofed terrarium during its jaunt on public transit, the little fella didn’t seem overly distressed by the people, noises, and fluorescent lighting of the subway, which made me wonder if these outings were a semi-regular occurrence. (Operating under the premise that the world also needs space for imagination, I decided not to ask the owner.)
Also early in my time here, I caught sight of an even more eye-popping human-animal duo. Near the temporary apartment where I lived for a few weeks after my arrival, there is a narrow greenway that runs between the entrances to several subway stations. This is a popular place to meet friends, to stroll, to take pets for a walk, or simply to see and be seen. Once COVID started running unchecked in Taiwan and indoor spaces became largely inaccessible, I enjoyed sitting along the greenway and watching the world go by.
One small corner of the world that went by me several times was a hoodie-wearing individual and his squirrel.
Now, the first few times he walked by, I wondered if there was something deeper at work. The owner’s hoodie was always pulled well over his face, making it impossible to see him. The squirrel, meanwhile, was always hanging limp in its owner’s hand, despite the fact that it was unleashed. This made me wonder if/fear that the squirrel was perhaps in transition between pampered pet and treasured taxidermy. After seeing them several times, however, the squirrel abruptly perked up and ran up its owners arm, ultimately perching (still unleashed) on its owner’s shoulder as they strolled on.
This isn’t the only example of an unleashed squirrel that I’ve seen. In my current neighborhood, another squirrel occasionally makes appearances, brought over to the park in a carrier, and then released to play. And I assume that the squirrel is relatively comfortable in its carrier, seeing as it retreats there whenever the neighborhood dogs trot by on their post-prandial perambulations.
But public appearances by various pets are not limited to landlocked creatures. There’s also strong avian contingent represented in Taipei’s collective devotion to animal husbandry.
A Bird in the Hand …
As I said at the top of this post, I have largely failed to capture photos of the birds I’ve seen in public. This is due in part to the fact that, unlike in China, where bird owners will hang their bird cages in the trees of parks to allow for avian socializing while the humans below chat, drink tea, and play chess, birds in Taipei tend to be leashed to their owners via a clip attached to a shirt collar, or even free flying. In one case, I spotted a man biking at high speed down the road while his bird glided above his head (sort of a more colorful, less ominous version of Schubert’s “Die Krähe”.) All this is to say, the birds tend to pass by quickly. (This isn’t to say the bird cage phenomenon is non-existent here in Taiwan but, at least in my area, it doesn’t happen on the scale that it does in China.)
Other cases when I have failed to capture lorikeet likenesses include one instance at a tea shop in Dadaocheng, when a fellow customer let their rather loquacious winged companion hop around on the table while their oolong steeped (the lighting was poor and the bird too small to capture on camera from a distance), and another teashop where the owner allowed her one-footed rescue canary out to play at closing time (I was overly enchanted and forgot to take a photo).
On the other hand, remember the garden of Chiang Kai-Shek statues? Well, among the many people congregated there was an individual who was out walking his several unleashed birds, all of whom were happy to perch on his shoulder, hand, finger, or head. If they got bored, they’d flit away for a spell, but they always came right back.
The birds are a normal enough phenomenon that I seem to be one of the few people who gawks. But there have been a few cases where even the seasoned pet connoisseurs of Taipei have joined me in openly admiring passing animals.
My Brush with an Alpaca A-Lister
Many who know me will know that I have a thing for llamas. This thing is largely hypothetical, as I can’t say I’ve hung out with a lot of them. But we were made for each other, I just know it. And when it comes time for me to seek out a retirement community, I will be clamoring on the waiting list of the German retirement home that is regularly visited by llamas and alpacas (chosen in part because of their potential contributions to therapeutic treatments.)
If I can’t find a convenient llama, alpacas will absolutely do. Thus, I am completely unapologetic about the fact that I was late for a Zoom meeting a few months ago because, on my way home one day, I ran into an alpaca on the street. And not just any street. My street.
To be clear, Michael is not your average alpaca. Michael is an A-lister who can be booked for promotional events. Michael travels with a posse (armed both with extensive paraphernalia to clean up after Michael’s messes, and with hair dryers to fluff and style his luscious coat while out on jobs.) Michael does television spots.
Michael quickly drew a bit of a crowd as he prepared to go into his gig at the neighborhood Thai restaurant (don’t ask, I don’t know.) Finally, someone asked if it was ok to pet him. The response was that it was fine, as long as we followed at least one of Michael’s social media accounts.
I complied.
It was magical.
Follow your dreams, friends.
(Fun fact, Michael is not the only alpaca working for this agency. But he has the rare combination of charm, charisma, and overall devastatingly good looks that have elevated him to superstar status. Thus, despite the very real charms of his colleague, Jordan, Michael is the agency’s rainmaker. [Yes, their names are Michael and Jordan.])
Finally, the Grand Finale
I haven’t talked about reptiles yet. And I’m torn, because A-lister alpacas are a hard act to follow. And indeed, if the only reptile I had to offer were, hypothetically, a man standing guard over his tortoise basking in the late afternoon sun in the park by my apartment, I probably wouldn’t be ending here.
But I confess, dear reader, that I withheld information last week. I told you about lanterns. I told you about government-produced videos. I told you about robotic space bunnies.
What I failed to mention was the fact that my nighttime jaunts to the Taiwan Lantern Festival were not, in fact, my first luminescent rodeo. As a matter of fact, on a balmy afternoon the week before, I sauntered through the area. The lanterns were quite a bit less magical in the midday sun, but the crowds were nevertheless out in force.
The lanterns may have been unlit, the wiring may have been more starkly visible, the space bunny may have been taking a dance break, but magic occurs in all kinds of places, under all kinds of circumstances. And one of the places where magic occurred on this foray was immediately in front of the space bunny, where a walker was casually strolling with her three pogonas (which, I learned in my Google hunt for alliterative collections of pet species is another name for the bearded dragon.)
Alright, you say, so she was walking her bearded dragons. Said dragons maybe liked the afternoon sun. But can they top an alpaca doing a gig at a Thai restaurant?
The answer, it turns out, is that bearded dragons in floral fascinators and/or bowler hats are, in fact, strong contenders for Taipei pet superstardom. And while the jury may still be out on whether or not these lizards have earned the title of “most striking” or “most impressive” pets in Taipei, I argue that they are clearly in the running for most dapper.
Bonus Footage
Based on this post thus far, you might think that Taipei is a tabby-free territory, a calico-less county, an Abyssinian abyss. But in general, I have excluded cats from today’s post for the simple reason that my feline encounters have been in very different settings—friends who own indoor cats, the store cats in cat cafes (including the cat manager of the coffee shop in Jiufen in which I took shelter from the rain), or the occasional cat on a stroll through a tourist site.
There is, however, one exception where cats are on the borderline of publicly paraded pets. This is in the neighborhood associations that set up shelters and feeding stations for the stray cats that wander through the (although, as I’ve mentioned before, the food bowls in my neighborhood are just as often raided by local pigeons as they are by their intended beneficiaries.) The result of these plentiful food sources is that there are several cats in my neighborhood who seem to enjoy simply hanging around as they wait for the free food bowl refills to appear. And some of them, as they wait, seem to dream of motorbike greatness.
Looking forward
If you’ve made it this far, thanks for reading about one of my favorite aspects of living in Taipei. Next week I’ll be back with more fieldwork-related writings, this time on the activities surrounding the commemoration of Taiwan’s 228 massacre, named after the date in 1947 (February 28th) on which it occurred. It doesn’t exactly make for light reading, but there’s a lot to be learned about the way music and politics come together as a driver of memory and solidarity, so I’ll hope you’ll come back and give it a read.