Hachiko

Yesterday after work I sat in Park Street Station waiting for Sue, who was coming in from Brighton on a B train, so we could ride the T home together.

I sat on a bench with a couple of scripts in my lap during rush hour and my God, there are a lot of inbound Green Line trains that rumble through that station at that time of day. For every train that came in, I'd lift my head and anxiously scan the rushing crowd of commuters, expectantly looking for that pretty redhead of mine.

And I thought to myself, I must look like a faithful dog sitting here, waiting for his master.

I told this to Sue on the ride home, and having lived in Japan, she knew and told me the story of Hachiko.

From Wikipedia:

"In 1924, Hachikō was brought to Tokyo by his owner, Hidesamurō Ueno, a professor in the agriculture department at the University of Tokyo. During his owner's life, Hachikō saw him off from the front door and greeted him at the end of the day at the nearby Shibuya Station. The pair continued their daily routine until May 1925, when Professor Ueno didn't return on the usual train one evening. The professor had suffered a stroke at the university that day. He died and never returned to the train station where his friend was waiting.

Hachikō was given away after his master's death, but he routinely escaped, showing up again and again at his old home. After time, Hachikō apparently realized that Professor Ueno no longer lived at the house. So he went to look for his master at the train station where he had accompanied him so many times before. Each day, Hachikō waited for Professor Ueno to return. And each day he didn't see his friend among the commuters at the station.

The permanent fixture at the train station that was Hachikō attracted the attention of other commuters. Many of the people who frequented the Shibuya train station had seen Hachikō and Professor Ueno together each day. Realizing that Hachikō waited in vigil for his dead master, their hearts were touched. They brought Hachikō treats and food to nourish him during his wait.

This continued for 10 years, with Hachikō appearing only in the evening time, precisely when the train was due at the station."

In my world, being compared to a dog is not a bad thing. In my world, it's a compliment. If you don't understand that, well, I feel sorry for you. Sorry, that you don't understand how deep the relationship can be between a human and a dog.