My family rescued a puppy from a local shelter about a year and a half before I left for college. A medium-sized mix of who-knows-what, we named her Josie and called her our cow-dog because her white-with-black-splotch fur and pink belly are reminiscent of an animal you might see emblazoned on a carton of old fashioned ice cream.

That year and a half is all it took to turn me from a card-carrying cat person to a genuine dog lover.

Now it’s been years since I’ve left home. Whenever I visit, Josie bolts for me as soon as I open the door. Her tail wags so hard she almost falls over, and it seems she is so excited that she is out of breath and her barks come out as raspy whines as she jumps up to lick my hands. I hurriedly drop my luggage and pet her behind her ears until my wrists tire.

I only get to visit home a few times a year now. Big city college life doesn’t lend itself kindly to pets. I look forward to the day when I can afford the time, cost, and space to have a dog of my own. Until then, however, I cherish my canine greetings upon the threshold of my parents’ door. So, it could be said, perhaps, that Nintendogs was made for me.

It might not have been made for you.

In fact, it appears that the puppy simulation game Nintendogs was created specifically with the Japanese casual gamer in mind; the office lady with a twenty-minute subway commute each morning, the salary man looking for something to do during his before-work smoke when he doesn’t have time to fire up the latest 70-hour rpg, or the school girl with a cell phone more advanced than R2-D2 but who has never owned a dog. In urban Japan, dog ownership is somewhat rare due to high ownership fees and small apartments. Combine that fact with a zealous admiration of cuteness, a culture that doesn’t consider games as mere toys for little boys or socially inept dorks, and the digital pet and collectible accessory craze, and you have a handheld success. Encourage players to bring their digital dogs along on their real-life excursions and you get a summer Japanese phenomenon. Even if the gameplay elements of a deceptively simple puppy simulator might not fit into the Western video gaming paradigm, the key ingredient has not been lost in translation.

Nintendogs is a game with personality.

Discover that personality and lose yourself in the game, see the Nintendogs not as digital puppies but as a different breed of real puppy, and the game comes alive. Look at it as a game, as a series of pixels backed by computer algorithms and a sequence of player-made decisions, and it dies.

Nintendogs rewards loyalty but requires it in small bursts. It actually limits your options and the time you can spend with your puppies, especially in the early stages of the game. Puppies can only learn four tricks per real-time day, are limited to entering three competitions a day, and can only be taken for a walk every thirty minutes. This is definitely not a game that benefits from the usual play-it-for-five-hours-straight each day for a week and then never-touch-it-again hardcore gamer schedule. The hardcore gamer will quickly run out of things to do, get frustrated, and miss the point. The Nintendogs gamer, however, will see a puppy that is tired and needs his rest. Tomorrow is, after all, a very big day.

Nintendogs requires extreme patience. While certainly the best use of the DS microphone thus far, the voice-recognition algorithms take time to learn each of your commands. Background noise practically destroys a puppy’s learning ability. Teach your dog a trick one day and the next it appears to have forgotten, only to pick it up again the next time you try. Bring a friend over to see your cute golden retriever jump on command and she might just sit there. The hardcore gamer sees faulty voice recognition, too sensitive a microphone and a game experience that doesn’t react the way they want it to, but the Nintendogs player sees a stubborn or shy puppy and is determined to become a better trainer. Training is, after all, hard work.

Nintendogs is best when infused with liberal doses of imagination. Different puppies will react differently to each item you present to them. One dog may just stand there barking at a tossed stick, while another will fetch it right back to you. A hardcore gamer might see this as a flag set randomly in the program that makes an earned item useless. The Nintendog fan quickly puts the stick away and pets her puppy. Maybe the puppy thought it looked eerily like a snake? We’ll just stick with the tennis ball for now.

If you neglect your Nintendog for too long, it will run away. The hardcore gamer sees a time-demanding game intent on punishing its players, while the true Nintendogs trainer will feel guilt and determination to correct past inaction. Of course the dog ran away, I’ve been neglecting it! If I find it, I’ll treat it extra special and won’t make the same mistake again.

It’s worth it to use your imagination when playing a game. Imagination brings forth this personality, draws one into the experience, and makes it unique.