Introduction
Our previous overview of dog shrines and temples mostly took us around the Kantō region. In particular, the Chichibu Mountains of Saitama was historically inhabited by the now-extinct Japanese wolf, which accounts for the original wolf worship at a number of the dog-related shrines in the area.
The connection with wolves notwithstanding, dog shrines in Japan are also associated with fertility. Since dogs have relatively uncomplicated pregnancies compared to other animals, these shrines draw worshippers praying for safe childbirth and fertility-related blessings. Many women will visit shrines on the twelfth day of the month, which is ‘Day of the Dog’ as it is the twelfth animal of the Chinese Zodiac. For the same reason, these shrines also attract people born in the Year of the Dog.
The following shrines venerate dogs in one form or another, with several that celebrate specific loyal canines. Some of these shrines also permit visitors to worship with their faithful companions. Depending on the shrine, they might even offer services specifically for pets.
Inu Shrine, Aichi
The Japanese word for ‘dog’ is ‘inu,’ so you’d be forgiven for assuming that the name of this shrine translates to ‘Dog Shrine.’ However, the shrine is in fact named after Inuhime 伊奴姫, one of the three deities venerated here. She is associated with fertility and marital harmony, and is the consort of Ōtoshi, one of the sons of Susanoo the storm god.
According to shrine records, Inu Shrine was established in 673, making it one of Nagoya’s oldest shrines. The legend associated with its founding begins with a small village near the Shōnai River. Having suffered floods from the river, the villagers asked a travelling mountain ascetic to pray on their behalf. Miracles of miracles, they were spared from flooding that year.
Puzzled and curious, the villagers decided to unwrap a sacred paper streamer (gohei) that they had been explicitly warned not to open. Inside was a painting of a dog (or four dogs, says another version) and the words ‘King of Dogs.’ The following year, the floods returned. When the ascetic passed by the village, the villagers apologised for their transgression, begging him to save them through prayer. The ascetic then told them to bury this gohei, build a shrine on the site, and sanctify it. In doing so, the floods ceased. So goes the origin story of Inu Shrine.
That being said, the shrine had supposedly been called Kumano Gongen until the early Edo period; how and when it formally changed its name to Inu Shrine is somewhat unclear. Moreover, despite its canine origin story, the shrine had not been strongly associated with dogs until three or four decades ago, when shrine management capitalized on the pun to popularize the shrine, adding a range of dog-themed objects to its lineup of spiritual paraphernalia.
Today, those hoping to conceive visit Inu Shrine to pray for healthy pregnancies and easy childbirth; pregnant women can visit on the day of the dog in the fifth month of their pregnancy and buy a special maternity band. There are little dog statues all around the shrine precincts, and a larger stone statue of the ‘Dog King,’ whose belly visitors may rub to receive blessings for their own baby bumps. Unfortunately, dogs and other pets aren’t allowed into the shrine grounds proper, which is a real shame for a place that actively capitalises on canine wordplay.
Kasumekentō Shrine and Kenbi Shrine, Aichi
A pair of shrines located in Okazaki City, Aichi Prefecture. The first shrine’s name translates to the ‘Dog Head of Kasume Shrine.’ As the name suggests, a dog’s head is what was (supposedly) enshrined here in 1346, although the shrine itself dates back to 701.
In 1346 — so the story goes — Lord Utsunomiya Yasufuji had gone out with his white dog for falconry, and after a while, decided to take a nap below a great cedar within a shrine. The dog spotted a giant serpent in the branches above, poised to strike his unwitting master, and barked furiously to warn Yasufuji of impending danger.
Angered at being rudely awoken from his sleep, Yasufuji drew his sword and severed his dog’s head. The head flew high into the air and bit the serpent, saving his master’s life. Filled with regret and remorse, Yasufuji gave his dog a solemn burial and enshrined his head. This is presumably when the shrine acquired its present name — Kasume Kentō.
Readers may recall similar stories at Nekonomiya Shrine in Yamagata and Nekozuka Kofun in Miyagi where faithful cats save their owners from befalling similar fates, suggesting that we should take these legends with a heavy pinch of salt. However, the story here does beg the question: What happened to the rest of the dog’s body?
It’s unclear what happened to the severed body, but the white dog’s tail was apparently enshrined at Kenbi Shrine, whose name literally means ‘Dog Tail Shrine.’ Similar to Kasume Kentō Shrine, Kenbi’s founding dates back to 987, and seems to have acquired its present name because of this legend. Both shrines are located just two kilometres apart, so it’s worth paying your respects at both if you happen to visit Okazaki City.
Rōken Shrine, Aichi
Everyone loves a story about a faithful canine — just think of Hachiko, whose loyalty landed him a monument in the heart of Shibuya. Less well known but no less deserving of a celebratory statue is Shiro, a dog whose love for his master became a legend in Akita. This is the origin story of Rōken Shrine in Odate City, Akita.
There was once a matagi (hunter) called Sadaroku in the Nambu Domain, whose lord had granted him a special hunting license that gave him the right to hunt anywhere within the domain, as well as beyond its. Shiro, his dog, would accompany him on these hunting trips. One cold winter’s day, the two of them were chasing their prey and crossed the bounds of the domain into Sannohe territory.
Conceding defeat, Sadaroku was about to return home when he was suddenly surrounded by several men — officers patrolling Sannohe territory, here to arrest him for hunting within their lands. He made to show his license, but realised he had forgotten to bring it out with him. His attempts at explaining fell on deaf ears, and he was thrown into jail.
Sadaroku told Shiro to run home and bring his hunting license to the jail. Shiro apparently understood his master’s instructions, but Sadaroku’s wife could not understand why the dog simply would not stop barking at her. Shiro returned to the jail, and again Sadaroku sent him back home to get the license. Home he ran, through the forest, and this time, he sat in front of the Buddhist altar in their house, barking at Sadaroku’s wife. Finally, she realised what the dog had been trying to communicate, and placed the license in a bamboo tube, tying it around his neck.
However, when Shiro made it back to the jail with proof of his master’s innocence, Sadaroku had already been executed. For several days and nights, you could hear the mournful howls of Shiro echoing through Sannohe Castle and the surrounding town. One version says that Shiro himself disappeared, and his skeleton was later found on a nearby mountain. Natural disasters befell the area, and everyone who had been involved with Sadaroku’s death met with tragic ends. Fearing the long-term effects of Shiro’s grudge, they built a shrine to pacify his spirit.
Shiro’s tale has parallels with Omatsu Daigongen in Tokushima and Shōzen-in Temple in Kumamoto, in that they are tales of animals taking vengeance on their owners’ behalf, and later having shrines built to appease their spirits.
Kōzen-ji Temple, Nagano
Located in the city of Komagane, Kōzen-ji is a Tendai Buddhist temple associated with the legendary dog Hayatarō. As with such stories, there are many variations, of which the following is but one.
700 years ago, five puppies were born to a wild mountain dog at Kōzen-ji. The priest took care of the animals, and when the mother decided to return to the wild, she left one of her sons behind. This puppy was a swift runner, so fast that the priest decided to name him Hayatarō — literally ‘Speedy Tarō.’ Hayatarō grew up to be a big, strong, and clever dog.
One day, a travelling monk arrived at at Kōzen-ji, seeking Hayatarō. It transpired that in Mitsuke, a village in the neighbouring province, the farmers were suffering under the depredations of their local deities. Every year at the beginning of August, a white arrow would appear on the roof of a random house in the village. This meant that the daughter (or child) of that house would have to be sacrificed, placed alive inside of a white coffin and left at an abandoned temple at midnight. Disobeying meant having their annual harvest destroyed.
On the night of the sacrifice, the monk concealed himself behind a tree near the temple to ferret out the truth. Instead of deities, he saw several monstrous old baboons (or monkeys) approaching the coffin, singing, don’t let Hayatarō of Shinshu know we are taking this child. Horrified, the monk fled. He wandered the provinces, searching for the fabled Hayatarō, finally encountering him at Kōzen-ji.
The priest agreed to lend Hayatarō to the travelling monk, so that the villagers of Mitsuke might be saved from future sacrifices. Off they went, and by the time the next festival was about to take place, the monk convinced the villagers to hide the dog in the coffin instead of a little girl. When the baboons came to partake of their annual sacrifice, Hayatarō leapt out and attacked the beasts. The sounds of fierce battle echoed through the village.
In the morning, the villagers found the slain bodies of the beasts, but Hayatarō was nowhere to be seen. He had suffered terrible wounds, but had somehow found the strength to lope off and return to his master at Kōzen-ji. Several days later, Hayatarō made it back to the temple, barking just once before passing away in his beloved master’s arms.
His grave still stands next to the temple’s main hall; there is even a beautiful wooden statue depicting the legendary dog. It doesn’t hurt that the temple itself is simply gorgeous, notable for its weeping cherry blossom trees, autumn colours, and luminescent moss that glows in the dark (schistostega pennata, or goblin’s gold).
Reiken Shrine in Mitsuke Tenjin, Shizuoka
Reiken Shrine — literally ‘Dog Spirit/Ghost’ — is located on the precincts of Mitsuke Tenjin (also called Yanahime Shrine) in Iwata City. If the word ‘Mitsuke’ sounds familiar, that’s because it’s the village in the story above. This shrine, too, is associated with the legend of Hayatarō, the primary difference being that the dog’s name is rendered here as ‘Shippei Tarō.’ This appears to be a regional variation on the name as the core narrative of the legend is identical.
Surrounded by greenery, the shrine is small but well-maintained. Visitors can write their wishes on votive tablets with charming drawings of Shippei Tarō on the front, or pick up a adorable dog-themed ornaments and fortune slipis. Well worth a visit in late April for the profusion of blooming azaleas, and yes, you can visit with your pet dog.
Jingi Taisha Shrine, Shizuoka
A shrine without a fantastical founding legend? Perish the thought. But Jingi Taisha Shrine in Ito City, Shizuoka, is indeed quite staid as far as origin stories go. This sectarian Shinto shrine was established in 1945 to venerate Amaterasu the sun goddess and yaorozu no kami — in other words, all the Shinto deities.
However, this otherwise commonplace shrine has two things going for it. One, it’s located in the Izu Highlands, which is a popular resort and holiday home area — perfectly convenient for a little sightseeing. More importantly, it’s known for welcoming visitors accompanied by dogs and cats, a rarity when most shrines and temples ban pets outright. This dog-friendly shrine goes beyond the bare minimum, too, providing drinking fountains and designated toilet areas for pets in addition to services like pet purification rites.
Written by Florentyna Leow