The white Akita puppy was not even two months old when it was “wrapped” in a sack of rice against the cold and set off on a twenty-hour train ride to Tokyo. It came as a gift to Professor Hidesazaburo Ueno, who lived alone and longed for a purebred Japanese dog, and in January 1924 he got one from a student.
The dog was named Hachiko and quickly became the professor’s real companion, he could join his master’s meals and was a regular guest under the bed, reports Múlt-kor.hu.
Every morning, Ueno left for the university with Hachiko, they walked to the Shibuja train station, from where the professor left for work. He returned every afternoon at exactly three o’clock, where the dog was already waiting for him. They followed this routine for almost a year and a half, but on May 21, 1925, Ueno did not go home: he suffered a stroke and died. Hachikó, on the other hand, was waiting for him, and not only that day, but the next day and the next, and every single day until the end of his life.
For 9 years, 9 months and 15 days, the dog waited for its owner every morning and evening in its usual place.
In the beginning, the railwaymen were not kind to him, but over time his loyalty won them over, and they rewarded him with snacks. He had a serious impact on the local population, becoming a kind of icon in the community living in Sibuja. Finally, one of Professor Ueno’s former students and specialist in the Akita dog breed, Saitó Hirokicsi, embraced Hachiko’s story. He also noticed the dog at the train station and then followed it on the way home to Ueno’s former gardener, Kózaburó Kobajasi.
He devoted several articles to the unshakable loyalty of the dog, his adherence to the memory of his master impressed the Japanese population, and he became an example of family loyalty and was often held up as an example to children. Hacsikó died on March 8, 1935, the 11-year-old animal was found dead on a street in Sibuja. After his death, his ashes were placed next to his former owner, in Tokyo’s Aoyama Cemetery.
Picture: illustration.
