I. Furry Belongings in the City Living Room
On the fifth floor of a building in Taipei’s East District, there’s a space transformed into a “living room.” The sofas are old, the lighting is dim, and outside the window is the city’s usual hustle and bustle. But on this day, sixteen small to medium-sized dogs, along with their owners, walked in one after another.
This is The Social by LayLow, Episode Daan Taipei, a pet-friendly multi-functional space. On the sixth day of Vogue Wellness Week, it was temporarily requisitioned as a special classroom—not teaching people how to tame animals, but how to rediscover a forgotten way of coexisting with them.
At this time last year, the protagonists of this event were stray dogs waiting to be adopted. Participants stretched and breathed alongside these lives that had not yet found a home, and the proceeds from the course were donated to halfway houses. This year, the narrative has changed: participants brought their own dogs, not as props or supporting characters, but as equal participants, jointly completing an exercise about body and trust.
II. In Yoga Class, the Dogs Call the Show
Teacher Hongdou was the facilitator of this class. Having taught yoga and raised dogs for many years, she deeply understands the hidden connection between the two.
“Today’s concept is Living Yoga with Dogs,” she said. “All beings are equal. Not only do humans need healing, but dogs do too.”
So she made a decision: not to use dogs as props in yoga. The common practice is to hold dogs, lift them up, and pose them as accessories. Teacher Hongdou did the opposite—the dogs could participate if they wanted, sleep if they wanted, and go wherever they wanted. Humans practiced downward-facing dog, and dogs practiced downward-facing dog, each undisturbed, yet sharing the same space.
At the start of the class, the students first built a bridge—not for themselves, but for their dogs. It was a welcoming ceremony, a declaration: this space, at this moment, belongs to the two of us.
Stabilizing bandages were gently secured to the dogs using the TTouch technique. This touch technique, originating from Linda Tellington-Jones, is said to alleviate animal anxiety. Watching a Shiba Inu go from tense to relaxed, its tail from tucked between its legs to hanging naturally, I suddenly realized that what humans call “healing” is often just learning to stop disturbing others.
The yoga session concludes with a relaxation period. The person lies on the mat, the dog lies or walks, and there’s a strange quiet in the air. Not the quiet of a library, but the quiet of two lives finally finding their rhythm.
III. Agui: Hands That Know How to Wait
The second half of the course was given to Agui.
Agui isn’t a person, but a pet massage system that originated in Sweden, spread to Japan, and then eventually arrived in Taiwan. Its founder, Principal Chihiro Anjuin, named it Agui, which is said to carry a sense of tranquility in Japanese.
The instructor was Ms. Wang Yujun, who has been in the pet industry for over twenty years, from grooming to health care, from KCT to KCUA, and now holds a seed teacher qualification from Agui in Japan. She speaks slowly, and when demonstrating the movements, it’s more like she’s talking to a dog than teaching a student.
“Agui’s techniques originate from Swedish massage,” she says, “but within the structure of an animal’s muscles and bones, it becomes a two-way communication.”
I watched her place her hands on the back of a poodle. That wasn’t petting; petting is demanding, it’s saying, “I like you, so I want to touch you.” Massage is giving, it’s saying, “I observe you, I wait for you, I respond to you.”
Teacher Wang Yujun says that during a massage, you need to observe the dog’s facial expressions, physical reactions, and emotional changes. Areas with significant stress or pain are often overlooked during routine hugs and feeding. The slow movement of a pair of hands can bring these ignored signals back to the surface.
“Early detection, early intervention,” she says, “but more importantly, letting the dog know you’re trying to understand it.”
Another instructor, Yuki You, adds that the core of Agui is never the technique itself, but rather “understanding the body and respecting the individual.” Technical skills can be learned, but the willingness to stop and wait requires much more time to cultivate.
IV. Egg Tarts and Fragrances: The Superfluous Tenderness
During the course, the organizers provided light snacks. The food for humans came from Little Tree Food, while the food for dogs was specially designed pet-friendly egg tarts by Episode Daan Taipei.
Watching a Corgi carefully lick its egg tart, I suddenly found this “superfluous” gesture quite touching. In this city, pet-friendly spaces are becoming increasingly common, but those truly willing to put thought into a meal, an afternoon, or a simple touch are still few and far between.
There was also DOLCE&GABBANA’s FEFÉ fragrance spray, reportedly the brand’s first alcohol-free pet fragrance specifically designed for dogs. I don’t know if dogs care about how they smell, but I know that someone is willing to develop a perfume for this, and that in itself constitutes a measure of civilization.
MELISSA’s honey sparkling drink bubbled on the table. Humans enjoyed the sweetness, dogs ate the fragrant treat, and outside the window, Taipei continued its usual hustle and bustle. The luxury of this moment lies not in how much money was spent, but in allowing yourself to slow down and confirm something simple: is the life beside you doing well today?
V. Touch as a Language
The course ended, and the students left one after another. Some held their dogs, some walked their dogs, and some let their dogs walk on their own.
I remembered what Teacher Hongdou said: “Let the dog freely choose whether or not to do yoga with its owner.”
This statement contains a rare wisdom. We are too used to “together” meaning synchronization, cooperation, and one party obeying the other. But true “togetherness” may simply be sharing the same space, each doing their own thing, yet knowing that the other is there.
Agui’s massage is the same. Teacher Wang Yujun’s techniques are not complicated—gentle stroking, pressing, observing—but each movement requires the person to be quiet first. You can’t be thinking about what social media to post later while getting a massage, you can’t be calculating whether the class is worth the ticket price while touching. You must be present, completely, clumsily, and honestly present.
And the dogs will know. They always know. ## VI. Epilogue: Redefining Companionship
As I left, the setting sun streamed obliquely through the window. A Bichon Frise, just finished a massage, rolled over on the sofa, letting out a contented sigh.
I suddenly remembered the course’s title: “Fur & Flow.” Fur is concrete, a tangible warmth; flow is abstract, time, breath, the inexplicable synchronization between two people (or one person and one dog).
In this city, we’re used to measuring everything by efficiency. But some things, like companionship, trust, the time a pair of hands is willing to linger on another body, cannot be quantified.
The seven-day Vogue Wellness Week course, from art therapy to water spinning, from pottery to pickleball, each day attempted to answer the same question: What is true luxury?
The answer given on the sixth day was perhaps the simplest—luxury is not about possession, but about being willing to spend an afternoon with your dog, doing nothing, simply existing.
