Confessions Of A Shiba Stalker

Okay, I’m going to come right out and admit I don’t actually have a dog. You would, however, be forgiven for assuming that I was knee-deep in shiba inus, on account of I own a scary amount of stuff that is almost exclusively bought by fanatical pet owners who, uh, own shiba inus.

Like shopping bags…

…okay, a LOT of shopping bags…

…and oven mitts…

…and washcloths…

…and squishy pillows…

…and summer fans and packs of tissues…

…and cooking pots…

…and rice ball molds…

…and useless Japanese handtowels that had to be bought because they folded into a cute little cloth book just filled with shibas and akitas (who needs a cloth book of dog pictures? Apparently, MEEEE)

And if I give you a present (and if you’re deemed WORTHY) it’ll be in one of these little shiba boxes

But if that wasn’t bad enough, it gets worse. I stalk them. I stalk shibas with my camera. Forget those big game safaris in Africa, I just slink around the parks, shrines and streets of Tokyo, pretending I’m aiming at that super fascinating thing RIGHT NEAR THE SHIBA and…

I’ve spotted them chilling at the Nezu Shrine…

…getting their portrait taken at the Interpets trade show…

…saying hello to some lesser breed (YES I covet that purse, do you even need to ask?)…

…refusing to walk another step…

…being stalked by other shiba stalkers…

…and even being devoured by Godzilla

I know. Pathetic. And I’ll quit, I will, just as soon as I get that really cute shiba apron I spotted near Komagome Station…

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