Photo: The dog, Ku-Tuo, begging. This was something he had never done before and had never been taught. "He knows me,” said the holy man. "He is begging to come with me."
THE PRIEST AND THE PEKINESE
As told by Phil Percie-Paine
to Doris Cheesbrough
Australian Women’s Weekly (1933 - 1982), Wednesday 29 August 1973, page 41.
Thanks to Anna Majerechová for sending the article.
The holy man claimed the dog had been his in a
previous Incarnation — and the dog seemed to
know him. An uncanny meeting in the Himalaya
Mountains near Tibet.
ONE raw, grey late-afternoon in February, 1958, I had changed wearily into my housegown to rest.
My husband and I had returned that day from Calcutta.
We lived at Darjeeling, close to the border of India and Tibet over 7000f. above sea level. When the mists lifted oh! what a view of incredible beauty confronted us - the snow-capped peaks of Kangchenjunga, rising over 28.000ft.
My husband was head of the science department of the Darjeeling Anglican school, known as “the Eton of the East.” It brought together 300 boys ranging from eight to 18 years. These lads — Easterners, Westerners from different backgrounds, of various religious faiths, lived all the year in harmony.
Alas for my rest — it was soon to be disturbed by the unexpected arrival of a most important visitor.
The commotion it caused among the servants! They came rushing up the stairs, knocking on my door and screaming to me, beside themselves in a mixture of elation and awe.
“Memsahib! Memsahib! Come. Come down. Chito- chito.” (Quick, quick) “He’s come. Here. Great man.”
And away they went again. I dressed quickly and hurried down.
All the servants (my six had collected those from the school, making about 40 in all) were formed in two rows with foreheads bowed reverently to the earth. A resplendent figure with shaven head, in vivid red robes and gold boots, was blessing each one.
They had cause for their excitement, for to all of Buddhist faith he was a great man indeed — His Holiness Gyalwa Karmapa Lama, advisor to the famous Dalai lama, at that time spiritual ruler of Tibet [note: the Karmapa was never an adviser to the Dalai Lama, G. B.].
Why had he sought me out? And with such a retinue! For he was accompanied not only by his secretary and his interpreter but also several men from the City Council, who were acting as representative for the Governor of West Bengal I felt deeply honored.
He recurred only a glass of water as refreshment, and after much bowing, and through the interpreter, he revealed the mystery of his visit. He had come to get a puppy.
Strange attraction
I had started the breeding of pekinese as a hobby. I was a keen dog-lover, and had little else to do.
From a small beginning this had turned into a profitable and absorbing business, and soon the Kennel of Avondale had become known widely. His Holiness had been on a pilgrimage throughout India, and was now on his way back to Lhasa, in Tibet He had heard of my project in Calcutta I invited him to inspect the kennels.
Then, of all things, what should happen? My most valuable pekinese, one from whom I could not possibly part took a violent fancy to him.
The little chap came bounding straight to the lama, sat up before him on his hind legs, and begged. He had never been trained to beg, in fact I had never seen him behave this way before.
Wherever the priest moved the dog followed, doing the same act repeatedly. Delighted with the performance, the priest addressed me through his interpreter:
“He knows me, this one. We have been together before. He is my dog reincarnated. I must take him. See how he is begging to come with me I must have him.”
“No, no.” I protested “Not Ku.”
This Ku-Tuo of Chianchy had been my newest importation from England not two months before. He was the grandson of the champion Ku-Chi of Caver- sham (England), and it was alleged that Miss de Pledge, the owner, had refused 10,000 pounds sterling for the famous Ku-Chi front an American fancier. The bloodline of this dog, his grandson, was invaluable to me. No. I could not possibly let my Ku go.
The priest remained determined.
“He has the lucky tika (mark) on his forehead too. It is a lucky star. Yes, this dog I must have.”
“No.” I said firmly, “This not possible.”
His Holiness was insistent. “But, don't you understand, he is my dog? He belongs to me. See. he still begs to come.”
“No. No.” I protested vehement.
„Mine. Mine.“ he repeated.
At last I prevailed upon him to listen to my suggestion; I would breed a puppy for him.
“No good. Not the same“ he said.
I said I hoped to be able to offer him an exact replica.
But he wanted Ku.
I tried to explain It would mean wailing for a bitch to come in season and be mated, probably in April: then tire gestation period was rune weeks. After the puppy was born (the same as Ku). I told him with what optimism I could muster I would care for it until the passes through the mountains to Tibet were negotiable in the autumn.
He listened suspiciously. “You are telling me all this to get rid of me.“ he said, looking as dejected as a small boy refused a longed-for toy.
I placed my hand in his. “This is my bond.“ I said. “You can trust me to do my utmost.”
Won over at last, he went on his way
Time passed anxiously Would I be able to honor my word? I well knew the difficulties. These pups come in all colors, all markings. There was no guarantee.
Exact replica
In due course the pup was born, cream and fawn and richest gold, the very image of Ku, the markings identical, even to the lucky
identical even to the lucky Hash on his forehead. Extraordinary'
As he grew, there was no doubt, he was an exact replica, for lie was developing the same temperament, the same parlor tricks unaided. It was uncanny.
How to get in touch with His Holiness now. and convey the joyful news?
Soon afterward I was visited by the Raj Kumar of Sikkim, whose two sons were pupils in the school. The Lama, he said had been in contact with him. If the pup was exactly like Ku-Tuo in every respect, he would send for him. An amount of 1500 rupees in payment was agreed upon (about 100 pounds sterling).
(…) The stem city alderman, and quick as a flash he bent down and produced the reminder of the notes, hopefully concealed in his boot.
“Now, here’s the pup’s food,” I said, giving him a supply of biscuits and a tin of powdered milk
“He eat as I do,” he said. “Barley bread. Yak milk.”
For warmth I handed him a blanket. Wrong again.
“He travel here,” the huge man said, opening his robe, heavily padded with wool, and putting the tiny puppy inside.
They would be returning as they came — through the narrow, stony mountain tracks, over the 14.000ft Nathula Pass on the border of Tibet a two-month journey by jeep, by mule tram, yak, and on foot.
I sadly watched them depart I would miss this important little dog.
“You will get him there safely,” I called after them anxiously.
The great tribesman turned. “If I don’t get pup to His Holiness, then”. He placed his hand dramatically across his throat.
Months later, when I heard through the school they had reached their destination, I breathed a sigh oi relief. But not for long.
Soon came the (1959) invasion of Tibet by China The border passes were crowded with refugees. The Buddhist priests left their monasteries, fleeing for their lives and leaving behind many of their treasured possessions.
What became of His Holiness? What became of that sweet little pekinese?
At last I heard. His Holiness Gyalwa Karmapa Lama had found refuge in Sikkim, and I was assured by the ruler of that country that (he precious dog was with him — safe and well.
As told by Phil Percie-Paine
to Doris Cheesbrough
Australian Women’s Weekly (1933 - 1982), Wednesday 29 August 1973, page 41.
Thanks to Anna Majerechová for sending the article.
The holy man claimed the dog had been his in a
previous Incarnation — and the dog seemed to
know him. An uncanny meeting in the Himalaya
Mountains near Tibet.
ONE raw, grey late-afternoon in February, 1958, I had changed wearily into my housegown to rest.
My husband and I had returned that day from Calcutta.
We lived at Darjeeling, close to the border of India and Tibet over 7000f. above sea level. When the mists lifted oh! what a view of incredible beauty confronted us - the snow-capped peaks of Kangchenjunga, rising over 28.000ft.
My husband was head of the science department of the Darjeeling Anglican school, known as “the Eton of the East.” It brought together 300 boys ranging from eight to 18 years. These lads — Easterners, Westerners from different backgrounds, of various religious faiths, lived all the year in harmony.
Alas for my rest — it was soon to be disturbed by the unexpected arrival of a most important visitor.
The commotion it caused among the servants! They came rushing up the stairs, knocking on my door and screaming to me, beside themselves in a mixture of elation and awe.
“Memsahib! Memsahib! Come. Come down. Chito- chito.” (Quick, quick) “He’s come. Here. Great man.”
And away they went again. I dressed quickly and hurried down.
All the servants (my six had collected those from the school, making about 40 in all) were formed in two rows with foreheads bowed reverently to the earth. A resplendent figure with shaven head, in vivid red robes and gold boots, was blessing each one.
They had cause for their excitement, for to all of Buddhist faith he was a great man indeed — His Holiness Gyalwa Karmapa Lama, advisor to the famous Dalai lama, at that time spiritual ruler of Tibet [note: the Karmapa was never an adviser to the Dalai Lama, G. B.].
Why had he sought me out? And with such a retinue! For he was accompanied not only by his secretary and his interpreter but also several men from the City Council, who were acting as representative for the Governor of West Bengal I felt deeply honored.
He recurred only a glass of water as refreshment, and after much bowing, and through the interpreter, he revealed the mystery of his visit. He had come to get a puppy.
Strange attraction
I had started the breeding of pekinese as a hobby. I was a keen dog-lover, and had little else to do.
From a small beginning this had turned into a profitable and absorbing business, and soon the Kennel of Avondale had become known widely. His Holiness had been on a pilgrimage throughout India, and was now on his way back to Lhasa, in Tibet He had heard of my project in Calcutta I invited him to inspect the kennels.
Then, of all things, what should happen? My most valuable pekinese, one from whom I could not possibly part took a violent fancy to him.
The little chap came bounding straight to the lama, sat up before him on his hind legs, and begged. He had never been trained to beg, in fact I had never seen him behave this way before.
Wherever the priest moved the dog followed, doing the same act repeatedly. Delighted with the performance, the priest addressed me through his interpreter:
“He knows me, this one. We have been together before. He is my dog reincarnated. I must take him. See how he is begging to come with me I must have him.”
“No, no.” I protested “Not Ku.”
This Ku-Tuo of Chianchy had been my newest importation from England not two months before. He was the grandson of the champion Ku-Chi of Caver- sham (England), and it was alleged that Miss de Pledge, the owner, had refused 10,000 pounds sterling for the famous Ku-Chi front an American fancier. The bloodline of this dog, his grandson, was invaluable to me. No. I could not possibly let my Ku go.
The priest remained determined.
“He has the lucky tika (mark) on his forehead too. It is a lucky star. Yes, this dog I must have.”
“No.” I said firmly, “This not possible.”
His Holiness was insistent. “But, don't you understand, he is my dog? He belongs to me. See. he still begs to come.”
“No. No.” I protested vehement.
„Mine. Mine.“ he repeated.
At last I prevailed upon him to listen to my suggestion; I would breed a puppy for him.
“No good. Not the same“ he said.
I said I hoped to be able to offer him an exact replica.
But he wanted Ku.
I tried to explain It would mean wailing for a bitch to come in season and be mated, probably in April: then tire gestation period was rune weeks. After the puppy was born (the same as Ku). I told him with what optimism I could muster I would care for it until the passes through the mountains to Tibet were negotiable in the autumn.
He listened suspiciously. “You are telling me all this to get rid of me.“ he said, looking as dejected as a small boy refused a longed-for toy.
I placed my hand in his. “This is my bond.“ I said. “You can trust me to do my utmost.”
Won over at last, he went on his way
Time passed anxiously Would I be able to honor my word? I well knew the difficulties. These pups come in all colors, all markings. There was no guarantee.
Exact replica
In due course the pup was born, cream and fawn and richest gold, the very image of Ku, the markings identical, even to the lucky
identical even to the lucky Hash on his forehead. Extraordinary'
As he grew, there was no doubt, he was an exact replica, for lie was developing the same temperament, the same parlor tricks unaided. It was uncanny.
How to get in touch with His Holiness now. and convey the joyful news?
Soon afterward I was visited by the Raj Kumar of Sikkim, whose two sons were pupils in the school. The Lama, he said had been in contact with him. If the pup was exactly like Ku-Tuo in every respect, he would send for him. An amount of 1500 rupees in payment was agreed upon (about 100 pounds sterling).
(…) The stem city alderman, and quick as a flash he bent down and produced the reminder of the notes, hopefully concealed in his boot.
“Now, here’s the pup’s food,” I said, giving him a supply of biscuits and a tin of powdered milk
“He eat as I do,” he said. “Barley bread. Yak milk.”
For warmth I handed him a blanket. Wrong again.
“He travel here,” the huge man said, opening his robe, heavily padded with wool, and putting the tiny puppy inside.
They would be returning as they came — through the narrow, stony mountain tracks, over the 14.000ft Nathula Pass on the border of Tibet a two-month journey by jeep, by mule tram, yak, and on foot.
I sadly watched them depart I would miss this important little dog.
“You will get him there safely,” I called after them anxiously.
The great tribesman turned. “If I don’t get pup to His Holiness, then”. He placed his hand dramatically across his throat.
Months later, when I heard through the school they had reached their destination, I breathed a sigh oi relief. But not for long.
Soon came the (1959) invasion of Tibet by China The border passes were crowded with refugees. The Buddhist priests left their monasteries, fleeing for their lives and leaving behind many of their treasured possessions.
What became of His Holiness? What became of that sweet little pekinese?
At last I heard. His Holiness Gyalwa Karmapa Lama had found refuge in Sikkim, and I was assured by the ruler of that country that (he precious dog was with him — safe and well.
