Year of the Dog

I'm heading for "Mad Dog Come," Cannon Street, third floor. Miss Yeung is the manager, her first name is Wing Shan but she calls herself Florence. The little woman with jewellery in her hair says: "I hope you will like your choice."

Mad Dog Come. From the street the doorway looks like thousands of others in downtown Hong Kong, a staircase that could lead to brothels, manicure studios, or Shanghai restaurants as large as train stations. I go up three flights of stairs, then reach a glass door which resembles the entrance to a doctor's office.

I ring the bell. The door opens. I step into a bright room and am greeted by Martin, Quinton, Jeepsy and the other Fox Terriers, Huskies and Retrievers, seven dogs bark and jump up and and sniff the guests, on some nights the animals wear sport shirts and princess dresses. This Friday most of them are naked, so to speak.