Worldly chronicle of the little dog Hoshi

Since entering the diplomatic service in 1977, Arturo Pérez Martínez has held numerous important positions representing Spain in various capitals, from Tokyo to Washington, via Sydney, Vienna and Dhaka, with the usual breaks in Madrid to recharge his batteries and prepare for his next destination. 

In some cases, he returned, as in Japan, where he met his wife and mother of his children, Kayoko Takagi, now professor emeritus of Japanese Language and Literature at the Autonomous University of Madrid.

He has just published his latest book, El alegre perrear de la perrita Hoshi (Ed. Vía Directa, 240 pages). This small Jack Russell terrier is the narrator of this chronicle, which is as mundane as the subtitle suggests, but with the substance of someone who has seen, heard and even kept quiet about a lot. Its originality lies in the fact that it offers a unique and entertaining perspective, a fresh and cheerful view of the troubled world in which we live. The story of Hoshi, this little dog narrator, offers warmth, humour and a new approach to the issues that affect us most, however dramatic they may be, which they often, or almost always, are. 

The book begins with Hoshi's own thoughts and feelings, before examining her daily adventures and experiences, her relationships with other dogs and with humans. That is the core, that is her cheerful dogginess. 

Those who know Ambassador Pérez Martínez agree in highlighting his cheerful and festive character, capable of defusing the thorniest issues in a negotiation that is supposedly fought tooth and nail. And now that he is retired, he pours all his accumulated experiences into the thousands of anecdotes he recounts, together with his colleagues and friends, during numerous evenings spent around a good table and the corresponding drinks, which sometimes cause the conversation to get out of hand. Hoshi takes note of all this, always present in such dialectical debates, very attentive to the stories, of which he later gives his version. 

His master asks in advance that the reader be indulgent if Hoshi goes too far in his assessments, which he often does, to add spice and humour, mixed or stirred as appropriate, to his narrative. ‘Animal culture is critical thinking,’ says Pérez Martínez to justify, as the dog's amanuensis, his good intentions and honesty, which he further emphasises by generalising: ‘All dogs possess it.’ 

The chronicle contains a significant dose of satire, of which Vladimir Nabokov said that ‘it is a lesson, parody is a game’. But, in any case, behind the humour that permeates the book and the apparent frivolity, there is also the feeling that the ambassador, through Hoshi, takes a very critical stance on the direction that Spain, whose interests he has represented and defended for forty years, seems to have taken. The book's dedication itself serves as an example: ‘To the democrats fighting against autocracy and corruption’.