Arrival Story: We live in the country and a fellow about a mile and a half distant came by looking for his lost pit bull. Told him I'd keep an eye out for his dog and did so quite literally. About one-thirty in the morning I opened the front door to have a look outside and there was a tawny, half-grown pup. Startled, the pup scooted down the front steps but stopped when I told him to wait. Throughout the long rainy night the pup remained vigilant on the the porch watching the road intently, waiting for the owner who had left him. When I went for a short walk the next day the newly named Hachi was right beside me. He had adopted an owner. Hachiko had found a home.
Bio: Sometimes victims of the Second Great Depression bring their dogs to the country and drive away. Sometimes farmers shoot at dogs as potential predators. Once in awhile a dog has been gently treated and has confidence and will make up with strangers and let them help him. This last scenario happens all too seldom. If you, who left this dog on a lonely country road in Georgia one mild night, see this page, know that this little one is being well cared for and is loved. I treated his mild eye infection and taught him to tolerate having his teeth brushed. Hachi had a complete physical, tests, shots, and has had laser surgery. He's basically healthy but had an assortment of worms and an ear infection. People have asked me several times what Hachi means and, so far as I know, it means 'eight' in Japanese and eight is representative of joy and wealth. Probably it referred to the place in the litter held by the first Hachiko, a national hero in Japan for his love and loyalty to his master in keeping a vigil at the train station where he waited for his long-dead master to return. Faithful unto death, Hachiko was a quiet hero for his fidelity to family.
It has been almost a year since I wrote in my diary. It has been a busy year for us doggies chewing bones and having backyard races. The little grey cat who believed he was Orry's papa disappeared last June and was never seen again. Some weeks later mom adopted a colorpoint shorthaired kitty from a rescue. The next month she 'dopted a tiny kitten from the shelter, Miz Abby. In September she 'dopted Pyewacket from the shelter but the tiny little guy died. At the end of September mom 'dopted two Siamese from Second Hand Siamese, a boy and a girl. In January mom 'dopted a tiny colorpoint shorthaired kitty from the shelter, Miz Priscilla. That makes six kitters, four girls and two guys, which she says is equal to having two dogs like us. Oh, and she feeds an outdoor feral, Smokey Sam, who turned up one day and hangs around.
I think my mom is a crazy cat lady. She says she hopes so.
We didn't really have a winter this year. It was more like a long autumn followed by spring. Mommy gets the "Green Acres" bug this time every year and digs lots of holes out front and plants stuff in them and waters them. She swears she will never plant in the back yard 'cause I 'retrieved' all the 'sticks' she planted and the sticks died. I planted a bone in a hole and watered it but it didn't grow a bone tree. Guess I gotta try again! Our dad turned 80 today. I wonder how old in dog years he'd be?
Mom has had us doggies inside from early evening on as it's cold outdoors and we's delicate and don't like to get our paws cold. Orry picked up a bone from the floor I thought should be mine so I growled and Orry's cat, the grey one, jumped in my face hissing and spitting and then the big black cat jumped on my back growling and then jumped on Orry. But the grey cat believes he's Orry's dad (He helped rear Orry) and went after the black cat and then both cats went after both of us doggies. Orry, all 89 pounds of him, jumped on his dad's lap and then pushed him off the sofa trying to hide behind him from those ferocious kitters. I headed for tall timber but so did the black cat and him pulled out some of my fur. Now I has to grow it all over again! Mom eventually chased the black cat into a bedroom and gave him a time out for an hour. The grey cat went to sleep. We doggies were saved.
When our new porch was built last year mom put up a brass plaque which warns that the house is protected by an attack cat.