Two tiny islands of Japan hold a love story that rivals anything you learned about Hachiko in a Tokyo train station. Most travelers already know the Hachiko tale: a loyal Akita dog who waited at Shibuya Station for a professor who would never return. After Hachiko passed away in 1935, Japan turned that devotion into a bronze statue and a national symbol of faithfulness. Fewer travelers, however, know that a similar story unfolded on a much smaller stage, out among the coral reefs of the Kerama Islands, roughly forty minutes by boat from mainland Okinawa. This is where you go to meet Shiro and Marilyn.
Shiro and Marilyn Dogs: Okinawa’s Answer to Hachiko
Video: Shiro and Marilyn: A True Dog Love Story
Credit: The Dog of the Day on YouTube Standard License
A Dog, an Island, and a Love Nobody Expected
The story begins in the mid-1980s on Zamami Island, a speck of green ringed by some of the clearest water in the Pacific. A Japanese family named Nakamura raised a scruffy white dog they called Shiro. Over time, Shiro grew close to a female dog named Marilyn who belonged to a nearby guesthouse. The two became inseparable, wandering the beaches together and greeting fishing boats side by side. Then, in 1986, everything changed. The Nakamura family relocated to Aka Island, a smaller neighbor separated from Zamami by roughly three kilometers (1.86 miles) of open sea, and they brought Shiro along with them.
At first, nothing seemed unusual. Shiro settled into his new surroundings, and the family assumed he had adjusted to life without his old companion. Before long, though, they noticed something strange: Shiro kept disappearing each morning and returning home soaked, exhausted, and strangely content. Curious and a little worried, Mr. Nakamura decided to follow him one day. What he found changed the way an entire nation thought about canine devotion.
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The Swim That Made Headlines
You can picture it easily once you stand on Nishihama Beach yourself: the wide stretch of pale sand, the current pulling toward Zamami in the distance, and a small white dog wading in without hesitation. Shiro swam the full three-kilometer strait, pushing through waves and tidal currents for nearly three hours, simply to reach Marilyn’s side. Once he arrived, the two dogs played together for a while, and then Shiro turned around and swam all the way home. He repeated this journey again and again, seemingly unbothered by the distance or the danger involved.
Word of Shiro’s devotion spread quickly across Okinawa and eventually reached mainland Japan. Newspapers picked up the story, and by 1988, filmmakers had turned it into a movie titled “Marilyn ni Aitai,” which translates to “I Want to See Marilyn.” Audiences across Japan fell for the tale, partly because it echoed Hachiko’s legacy of loyalty, and partly because Shiro was still alive and swimming while the film played in theaters. Unlike Hachiko’s story, which carries a somber note of waiting for someone who never comes home, Shiro’s story offered something rarer: a happy, ongoing reunion that people could watch unfold in real time.
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A Family of Their Own, and Two Quiet Goodbyes
Shiro and Marilyn’s bond went further than most retellings suggest. Over the years, the pair raised three litters of puppies together, and their descendants still live scattered across Zamami Island today. For a while, that felt like the happiest possible ending to the story, and locals watched the little family grow with real affection.
Then, in 1987, Marilyn died. She never lived to see the 1988 Japanese film that made her famous, which means she spent her final months completely unaware that her love story would soon capture the whole country. Shiro, understandably, stopped making his daily swims once she was gone, and neighbors say he seemed quieter after that, though he still greeted visitors with the same gentle warmth he always had.
Shiro himself lived a long life afterward, considering everything his body had been through. He passed away on November 26, 2000, at the age of seventeen, an age that translates to roughly eighty in human years. By then, he had become something of a local celebrity, and residents from across Okinawa contributed toward the memorial that now stands facing the sea. Today, when you visit, you’re not just looking at two statues of dogs who loved each other; you’re looking at the parents of an entire island’s dog population, immortalized for a devotion that outlasted them both.

What You’ll Find on Aka and Zamami Today
If you make the trip yourself, expect a quieter kind of pilgrimage than the crowds swirling around Hachiko’s statue in Shibuya. Ferries run between Naha, Aka, and Zamami several times a day. These crossing gives you sweeping views of the same waters that Shiro once paddled through. On Aka Island, a statue of Shiro faces the sea from Nishihama Beach, frozen mid-stride as though he is about to step into the surf. Meanwhile, on Zamami, a companion statue honors Marilyn, gazing back across the strait toward the island where her devoted companion once lived.
Local guides on both islands are happy to share details that rarely make it into the shorter versions of the story. Marilyn, sadly, passed away in 1987, which brought an end to Shiro’s daily swims. Even so, Shiro lived on for many more years, eventually passing away in November 2000 at the remarkable age of seventeen. Residents raised funds from across Japan to build his memorial, ensuring that visitors would always have a place to pay their respects. Because of that community effort, the statues feel less like tourist attractions and more like shrines built by people who genuinely loved this dog.

Why This Story Belongs Beside Hachiko’s
Comparisons to Hachiko are inevitable, and honestly, they’re well earned. Both stories capture something distinctly Japanese about loyalty, patience, and quiet devotion, values that show up again and again in the country’s folklore and public memorials. Yet the two tales diverge in an important way. Hachiko’s vigil outside Shibuya Station in Tokyo. became a symbol of loss, a reminder that loyalty sometimes goes unrewarded even when it never wavers. Shiro’s story, on the other hand, gives you something more hopeful: proof that devotion, when it’s strong enough, can actually close the distance.
As you wander the Kerama Islands, you’ll notice how naturally this story blends into daily life there. Fishermen mention Shiro almost casually, the way you might mention a beloved neighbor who has since passed. Shop owners sell small postcards featuring both dogs, usually tucked beside postcards of sea turtles and coral reefs. Even the ferry crew sometimes points toward the strait and tells first-time visitors, “That’s where Shiro used to swim,” as if the story happened last year rather than decades ago.

Planning Your Own Visit
Because the Kerama Islands sit within a national park, you’ll want to plan around ferry schedules, which can shift with the seasons. Most travelers base themselves in Naha and take a day trip out to Zamami or Aka, though staying overnight lets you catch sunrise over the water Shiro once crossed. Bring good walking shoes, since both statues sit a short distance from the main ferry terminals, and pack reef-safe sunscreen if you plan to snorkel afterward, since the surrounding waters rank among the clearest in Japan.
Before you leave, take a moment at each statue rather than rushing past for a quick photo. Shiro’s statue on Aka faces the open water with an expression that somehow still reads as determined, and Marilyn’s on Zamami seems to wait patiently, exactly as she once did. Standing between the two, separated by the same three kilometers Shiro swam so many times, you start to understand why this story still moves people decades later.

A Quiet Companion to a Famous Legend
Hachiko will always draw the biggest crowds, and Tokyo’s Shibuya Station will remain the busier, more photographed monument to canine loyalty. Still, if you want to understand the fuller picture of how Japan honors devoted animals, the Kerama Islands deserve a place on your itinerary. Here, loyalty isn’t just commemorated in bronze; it’s woven into the landscape itself, into the beaches, the ferry routes, and the strait that Shiro crossed so many times for love. Next time someone tells you they already know Japan’s most famous dog story, mention Shiro and Marilyn, and watch their expression change.
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About The Author
Randy Yagi is an award-winning writer who served as the National Travel Writer for CBS from 2012 to 2019. More than 900 of his stories still appear in syndication across 23 CBS websites, including New York, Los Angeles, Chicago, and San Francisco. During his peak years with CBS, Randy had a reported digital audience reach of 489 million and 5.5 million monthly visitors. Additionally, his stories have appeared in the Daily Meal, CBS News, CBS Radio, Engadget, NBC.com, NJ.com, MSN.com and Radio.com. He earned a Media Fellowship from Stanford University and is a Bay Area Travel Writers (BATW) member



