Tibetan Mastiffs

Yang Zhijun

People’s Literature Publishing House

August 2018

79.00 (CNY)

Yang Zhijun

Yang Zhijun is a famous contemporary writer. His works have won the Mao Dun Literature Award， the National Outstanding Children’s Literature Award， the “Five One Project” Award， the China Publishing Government Award， and the China Outstanding Publication Award， the “China Good Book” Award. Some of his works have been translated abroad.

This book is about past stories of Xizang where life collides and warms up between humans and Tibetan mastiffs. The story begins with the early days of the founding of the People’s Republic of China， when a Han Chinese first came to the Qinghai-Tibet Plateau.

The children eagerly stretched out their hands. The father distributed all the peanuts from his ration bag evenly among the children， leaving two peanuts at the end. He tossed one to the large yellow dog， saying placatingly， “Don’t bite me.” Then he demonstratively peeled a peanut and ate the kernels. The children imitated his actions and started eating. The large yellow dog sniffed the peanut suspiciously， wanting to eat but hesitant. A child with a big forehead quickly picked up the peanut in front of the dog’s mouth and was about to put it in his own mouth. Another child with a scar on his face grabbed it and said， “This is for Gangri Senge.” He then peeled the peanut and held it out to the large yellow dog. The dog looked gratefully at the scarred child and licked the peanut into its mouth.

The father asked， “Do you know what this is?” The child with a big forehead said， “Paradise fruit.” He repeated it in Tibetan. The other children nodded in agreement. The father said， “Paradise fruit? You could say that. Its other name is peanut.” The child with the big forehead said， “Peanut?” The father stood up， looked at the sky， and mounted his horse. He waved to the children and the awe-inspiring large yellow dog， then spurred his horse forward. After riding a considerable distance， he suddenly heard a noise behind him. When he turned around， he saw that all the children and the lion-like large yellow dog were following him. The father stopped and asked with his eyes， “Why are you following me?” The children stopped too and asked with their eyes， “Why did you stop?” The father continued forward， and the children followed. Eagles circled curiously overhead， watching the scene of a Han man on horseback followed by seven ragged Tibetan children and a majestic yellow Tibetan dog. The children walked enthusiastically on the soft grass with their bare feet. The father always believed it was those peanuts that connected him with the seven children and the large yellow dog. The seven children and a Tibetan dog named Gangri Senge had eaten the father’s peanuts and then followed him all the way to Xijiegu.

Xijiegu is the center of the western grasslands of Qingguo Ama. The center is marked by a monastery and some stone tower houses. In places that are not the center， the grassland is only scattered with nomadic tents. Between the monastery and the tower houses， there are high stacks of Mani stones， forests of prayer flags， and colorful Lungta flags and banners with painted Buddha images fluttering in the wind. When the father arrived at Xijiegu， it was already evening. The shadows on the ground were lengthening in the setting sun， making the staggered heights of Xijiegu Monastery and the tower houses look tilted. On the flat ground at the foot of the mountain， where the forest and grassland meet， some black yak hair tents and white cloth tents were sparsely set up. Six-syllable mantra flags decorated the tents like lace. Smoke rose from the rooftops， blending with the clouds in the wind. The clouds were so low they almost brushed the tree-covered slopes.

It was as if the clouds were making a sound， dogs barked. More and more dogs barked. From the foot of the grassy waves at the base of the mountain， there came a rustling sound. The shadows of dogs burst through the clouds and charged towards the father. The father exclaimed， “Oh my!” and hurriedly reined in his horse. He had never seen so many dogs， and many of them were large， powerful dogs that were more like wild beasts such as tigers， leopards， lions， and bears than domestic dogs.

The father later learned that what he saw were Tibetan Mastiffs. Among the hundreds of various Tibetan dogs， at least a third were the formidable Tibetan Mastiffs. At that time， the Tibetan Mastiffs on the grassland were absolutely purebred. Two reasons kept this ancient Himalayan mastiff， known for its ferocity and intelligence， purebred: First， the Tibetan Mastiff’s mating season was fixed in autumn， while other Tibetan dogs would mate in winter and summer. During the Mastiff’s mating season， non-Mastiff females usually avoided the Mastiffs because they couldn’t withstand the Mastiffs’ weight， similar to how a ewe can’t bear the weight of a bull. Second， the solitary and proud nature of the Tibetan Mastiffs made it almost impossible for them to form closer relationships with other dog breeds. Tibetan Mastiffs and other Tibetan dogs were comrades， neighbors， but not lovers. Proud male Mastiffs preferred equally proud female Mastiffs， and once they successfully mated for the first time， they rarely changed partners unless their partner died. In rare cases， a bereaved male Mastiff， driven by desire， might seek out a non-Mastiff for mating， but as mentioned earlier， the non-Mastiff females would keep a distance， and if they couldn’t， they would collapse under the Mastiff’s weight， making natural mating impossible. Some superior Mastiffs， even when bereaved and driven by burning desire year after year， would not lower their standards. They were the symbols of dignity in the dog community， the noble kings of Mastiffs， at least in demeanor.

The father， terrified， turned his horse around and hurriedly fled. A child with a bare back and bare feet appeared out of nowhere and grabbed the father’s bay horse. The startled horse reared back， almost throwing the father off. The child stabilized the horse and gave a long shout， stopping all the charging dogs five steps away. The dog pack was agitated but didn’t attack the father. The father rolled down from the horseback. The bare-backed child led the father’s horse forward. The dog pack followed at a distance， their hostile eyes fixed on the father. The father could feel the threat from their eyes on his back， shivering repeatedly.