I know he's not a dog. You know he's not a dog. The vet definitely knows he's not a dog, but good luck convincing his new owner of that, no matter who you are. What he is is a tanuki, a real Japanese animal that has the sort of folkloric side that coyotes have in some First Nations cultures, and for some reason, he decided one day that he wanted to be someone's pet. And honestly, it's hard to blame the furry little guy, because many of us treat our pets better than we do other humans, so why wouldn't a quasi-mythical animal want in on that?

I say "quasi-mythical" because the tanuki in question is definitely not your average racoon-dog. He can write, for one thing, but he's also got a leaf on his forehead, which in Japanese folklore means that he could transform into other creatures at will. (Or perhaps the tanuki form is his transformation...?) While he's recognizably an animal, he acts like a mythical beast, and that disconnect, his owner's total obliviousness, and the poor vet trying desperately to pretend that everything's fine all make this as silly as it is sweet. Not much happens, but there's a charm here that's easy to get pulled into.

Naturally one of the most entertaining parts is the fact that everyone is aware that the “dog” is anything but. While this could have ended up feeling repetitive across the two volumes, Ko Nikaidou has a light enough touch with the story that it instead comes across as a mild running gag. Most children, including the woman's next-door neighbor, are perfectly happy to take her at her word. Her father dotes on the tanuki he calls “Angel” (no other name is ever given for the pet) as if it were a small breed of dog, supplying him with doggy shirts and treats, and like most animals, the tanuki is perfectly happy to accept the latter while scorning the former. The poor veterinarian tries desperately to tell the new pet owner that her darling is most definitely not a dog, but when he's not stopped outright by the tanuki himself, he's forced into contortions of phrase in his bid not to upset his client. There's only one person across the two volumes who actually succeeds in calling a spade a spade (a teenage girl, and that's still not a particularly successful effort). It does beg the question of whether or not the tanuki's owner is simply playing along with her pet or if she really, truly thinks he's a dog, but we're left without a firm answer.

That's perfectly fine, because while it's got the tanuki angle, With You and the Rain is at its heart a slice-of-life story about a woman and her pet. Its flow mimics any number of cat-and-owner (or cat-and-human-slave, if you have cats) stories, from the bite-size chapters to the soothing nature of the tanuki's actions. Volume two is particularly good at this, with a chapter about harvesting chestnuts while out on a walk perfectly drawing a parallel between a dog constantly wanting you to throw a stick and the oddity of a tanuki asking his person to open the spiny cases so that he can get to the nuts inside. Another chapter, where the woman's dog-happy dad cuts apples into pretty shapes only for the tanuki to devour them, is beautifully reminiscent of giving your dog a new toy only to have her shred it to bits in five minutes.

Volume two can do this because volume one spends so much time carefully establishing the characters and their attitudes. It's obvious from the first that the tanuki wants in on that sweet pet life, and he's no more aware of the strangeness and unpetlike behavior than his new owner appears to be. Although he never says (or rather, writes) it, it's clear that he figures that if he wants to be adopted into a home, the best thing to do is to simply say so, hence the writing on the box and later a pad of paper his new owner gives him. He's still got a lot of animal-like behaviors in the way that he plays and mostly interacts with others, but then every so often he'll whip out his notepad and break the illusion. It's an interesting disconnect that works better than it sounds like on paper.

Nikaidou's art also works to maintain the vaguely absurd feel of the story. It's simple with clean lines, but pretty in a soothing way that works well with the story. The tanuki is appropriately fluffy with cute little feet and his body language feels more animal than human. Backgrounds are plain but still give us a firm feel for the time and place; this is especially noticeable across both volumes as they take place in different seasons, summer for one and fall for two. At times it seems almost as if the woman is aware of what's really going on, something aided by the art in volume two (which, if you hadn't guessed yet, is the stronger of the two books), when she comments on the leaf her new pet always has on his head. At one point he also changes it out for a fallen ginko leaf for an autumnal feeling, so there is a real possibility that she's not quite as oblivious as she seems about his true nature.

But apart from the running joke about his species, it almost doesn't matter if she's unaware or not. With You and the Rain is a slow, sweet story about the bond between a woman and her pet. Does it matter what the pet is? Maybe, but I think the main appeal of this series is how simple it is to just sit back and enjoy the ride.