CLOSE TOGETHER: Pet dogs are an important part of their ownersﾕ families in Beijing and other Chinese cities (TANG ZHAOMING)

Every morning as I pedal my bike to work, I see scores of Beijingers out walking their dogs. Once I even saw an elegant elderly lady walking her Siamese cat. My neighbor, Mrs. Wang, joked that this city has more pet residents than humans, especially if you count up the dogs, cats, birds, mice and assorted odd creatures like turtles, lizards and rabbits.

Chinese people of all ages and economic brackets love their pets. They seem to especially love their dogs. My own neighborhood in Haidian District is full of all kinds of small dogs because I live inside the Fourth Ring Road. Since 1992, Beijing city regulations have allowed dogs in the capital as long as they were less than 35 centimeters high (14 inches). A few years ago, during the Year of the Dog (2006), many city residents protested this rule, which was coupled with a "one dog per household family" regulation. Authorities were only trying to protect residents, because rabies fatalities had risen 30 percent during the first nine months of the year. (Rabies is a viral infection that is nearly always deadly for humans if left untreated.) In 2006, more than half a million dogs were registered as required, but almost another half million was estimated to be unregistered. Pet owners became nervous, because cash rewards were offered by police hotlines for tips that would turn in large and/or unregistered canines.

Today the number of pet dogs in Beijing is estimated at more than 1 million; cats are far too numerous to count.

"We dote on our pets," said Mrs. Wang, proud owner of a feisty little Pekinese named Sweetie. "Beijing has a long tradition of raising these dogs, and they are said to keep away evil spirits. Our myths say that Pekinese are part lion and part marmoset. The emperor's family bred them, and common people were killed for kidnapping such a dog. During the Second Opium War (1856-1860), British soldiers stole five dogs from the Summer Palace when they burned it. This started a craze for our Chinese dogs among the rich English aristocracy."

"That's right," wheezed old Mr. Chen, who was walking his little chihuahua called Dinky. "Queen Victoria called one of those dogs 'Looty' because it was looted from our palace."

I nodded, watching Sweetie, who tended to bark at me whenever I rode by. The little creature is longer than tall, with thick legs, a flat face and heart-shaped ears. This breed always looks like it's wearing makeup, because the nose, lips and outline of its eyes are black. "How's Sweetie today?" I asked her politely.

"He's on another hunger strike," she replied. "We're having a power struggle over his right to sleep on my grandson's bed."