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Luigi and Me

     A friend of mine once told me that the middle years of your life can either be a time of 'chaos or creativity'. There are lots of stories you've heard about how men in particular, do strange things between the ages of 40 and 60.   Some me have been known to buy fancy sportcars, or motorcyles for no apparent reason at all, except for the belief that if they owned something they should have had when they were 25 years old, they would somehow be 25 again.  Some men leave their wives for other women, again feeling that if they get back into the groove of 'sowing their wild oats' with a woman almost half their age, the receding hair line they have will once again fill in with hair, or that middle age bowl of a belly will shrink to reveal youth like abdominal muscles once again. And some men, just have a heart attack and get it over with.  My middle age crisis was dealt with by getting a dog. That's right, a dog.  But let's not get ahead of ourselves here, first of all, it was not my idea.

     I'll never forget that day. I was livid to say the least.  I'd come home after a hard day's work to discover that my wife and daughter had brought home a new puppie from the dog shelter.  They had him in a small box as a surprise for me.  Yeah, I was surprised all right, "who is going to take care of this animal" ? I shouted.  I chastised them for making this decision without me, and I reminded them of all the dogs we previously owned that did not work out, since no one was willing to devote the time necessary to take care of them as they grew older. 

    Our first dog was a beautiful Malamut/Huskie mix by the name of "Muffin"  She quickly grew to a size that made moving around our first little living room difficult to say the least.  I remember that with one wag of her tail, Muffin could knock down one of the kids and anything lying on the coffee table! But perhaps what Muffin was best known for were here peculiar eating habits.  It seemed that whenever we left the house to go on trips, little did we know that Muffin would take out her anger and frustration by eating our clothes! One day when I was picking up after her in our backyard, I noticed that when I went to pick up her droppings with my shovel, the shovel bounced back.  Much to my horror, I discovered that this piece of dog feces was really a pair of my 'fruit of the loom' underwear briefs!  Needless to say, we had to give Muffin back to the shelter for fear of eventually needing to buy our clothes from the Salvation Army since we seemed to be running out of them as long as she was around.

    Our next dog, was a cute cocker spaniel, the kind you always see on those T.V. sitcoms.  Her name was 'Maggie". The reason why cocker spaniels are always on T.V. is because they're great actors!  In real life, it turns out, these cute little dogs (at least this one) with the floppy ears and expressive faces, are in fact as mean as 'pit bulls' and are 'hell on wheels' around children, and unfortunately my wife and I had a few of those around, so Maggie too was given her 'pink slip'.

     Not long after Maggie moved out, we moved out of our 2nd home in the quiet, older suburb of Robbinsdale Minnesota and moved into a Townhouse in Plymouth Minnesota.  It was an unsettling time for the family to say the least, as me, my wife and our 5 children tried to fit comfortably into a smaller townhouse while we prepared to move into my in-laws large 4 bedroom Colonial in Plymouth.  My late father-in-law had suffered a stroke, and my wife and mother-in-law decided that rather than our family buying a new bigger home to raise our brood, we would move into their home which was being reconstructed to add separate living quarters for them.  That way, we could help my mother-in-law take care of my father-in-law in a larger home, in a nice neighborhood with good schools.  I knew I was moving my family into the house, but what I had not anticipated was moving in with yet another four legged member of the family.

     This time it was a black Labrador Retriever mix (German short hair) by the name of "Luigi". Now you may think Luigi is a strange name for a dog, and you would be right.  Why not "spot" or 'buddy' or 'jake'...no, it was Luigi because he was given his name by my little old Italian mother-in-law who is Sicilian. If you think I could have changed his name, well...then you haven't met my little old Italian mother-in-law. Actually his name became one of the most enduring things about him, as I began taking him for his first walks around the neighborhood, feeding him, and picking up after him.  You notice, I didn't say the words 'training him' and that is my one regret.  Luigi became a spoiled house dog who did as he damn well pleased, much to the consternation of my dear wife, who threatened to go out and buy new furniture every time Luigi jumped up onto a sofa, love seat or chair, you name it, Luigi claimed a spot on it, usually cuddled up next to me.  And what did I get in return? lots of unconditional love, with a Capital 'L'. Labrador retrievers are wonderful with children and the 'kids' in us adults.  They just have a way with people. They are loyal, stoic, animals and make great hunting dogs, but since I was not a hunter, Luigi had to be content with just going after the occassional 'wild stick' I threw over his head in the park on Saturday or Sunday afternoons.  INn vact Luigi was not only a hunting dog, he seemed afraid of the 'water' and in Minnesota no less, land of 10,000+ lakes. A Labrador who never got his toes wet in a lake or pond, now there was a rare sight indeed.  Oh, he did like going on walks, what dog doesn't, but about the only thing he ever chased were the usual suspects of squirrels and rabbits, he never caught any of them, and if he had, I wonder if he would have known what to do with them?

     Thank God, Luigi loved children.  Because, my wife runs a home daycare center which was filled daily with toddlers and babies morning till night. Luigi was always good natured and gentle around her kids, though. She often told me that during the day one of the children would invariably put a hat or some article of clothing on Luigi's head and he would simply look up from his pillow as if to say "oh what am I wearing now...."? And Luigi loved other dogs, but sometimes they didn't love him back.  I remember one time while on a walk throught our neighborhood one afternoon we passed the house of a man who owned a British St. Bernard dog. They were sitting on the front porch as we were strolling by, and being the 'extroverts' that we were, Luigi and I struck up a conversation with the young chap.  I walked Luigi up to the porch and I was talking to the dog's owner, his mammoth sized pet proceeded to swallow Luigi's head and shake it back and forth in an attack that had us both scrambling to get them apart.  I checked Luigi over for cuts and bruises and was about to 'call the fight' when his owner began apologizing for his dog's rude and inhospitable behavior.  I saw no obvious wounds and so we walked, or should I say, began limping home. 

     A couple of days after this attack, I went away on a 2 day professional retreat.  I returned on a Sunday afternoon to find no one at home, save for Luigi who was laying in his kennel.  I went over to greet him with open arms and began hugging him only to realize that his head and neck were moist with blood.  It seems Luigi had received a small puncture wound from the dogfight a few days before adn was bleeding from the wound.  I screamed aloud and began calling for someone, anyone, to help us.  How? I thought, could the family havenot noticed this wound over the weekend?  Will he bleed to death right here before my very eyes?  I immediately took him to the vets office and was relieved to hear that his wounds were not life threatening and he would recover just fine with some antibiodics.

     Yes I was really getting attached to Luigi, and it was obvious that I was indeed the 'alpha' dog in our pack.  When I brought Luigi to the vets office that day, I'll never forget how we were introduced.  The vet's assistant took the leash from my hand and turning to the doctor as she was pointing to my dog said, "Doctor this is Luigi" and then as she gestured toward me said, "and this is Bill.....Luigi's person.." And at that moment, I felt a warm sensation in my heart and realized I was reacting to being referred as someone's 'person' in this life.  The thought that someone (in this case an animal) looked to me first and always for love, and compassion in their life was both humbling and gratifying. But in fact, I also have come to realize that with me and Luigi, it was indeed a two-way street.  There is much to be said for a dog's keen sense of smell, but I think we often overlook another special sense they have with their sight. The french writer Antoine St. Exupery in his book "The Little Prince", reminds us that when it comes to a human person, their 'purpose in life', their 'human dignity', their 'self esteem'...these qualities he says are often invisible to the naked eye...it is only "with the heart, that one sees rightly".  I think of all the creatures on earth, man's best friend, has a unique gift for seeing people with their hearts, all the time.

     I was Luigi's 'person' during a very difficult time in my life, from the time I was 45-58 years of age.  I've come to learn that issues men face in the middle of their lives are often Spiritually based, and this was certainly true in my life. In spite of the fact that I had a wonderful family, two accomplished careers as a professional fundraiser in the non-profit community and as a Social Work Officer in the U.S. Army Reserve, I began my mid-life crisis by feeling that I was somehow 'underbeing' .  I couldn't quite put my finger on this 'mid-life anxst', but for some reason I began feeling that my life neeed a 'jumpstart', I needed to make a change but I didn't know what this change should be.  I remember during this time period reading every mid-life self help book on the bookshelves, and journaling about my thoughts and feelings.  It wasn't until I began seeing a Spiritual Director in the Catholic Church that things began to get focused for me.  Spiritual Directors are religious or lay people trained to companion people on their walk with God in their lives and to help them discern how God was acting in their lives.  This was one of the issues eating away at my core.  l had been raised a Catholic and attended mass on a regular basis, but felt in many ways I was just going through the motions when it came to my spiritual life, and that I had become estranged from God.  In my first session with a Director, he picked up on this issue, along with two other issues that 'came up for him' as he listened to me talk.The first issue was 'vocational', should I leave the non-profit organization I had been with for 20+ years and do something else to grow professionally?, and the other issue was confronting the dark side or shadows of my life, those things that I had done in my life that I had come to regret, or that did not match up with my values I held deep inside of me, those times I had 'turned away from God'.

     I think for me, the middle years of my life were a time of coming to grips with both the darkness and the light of my soul, and a time for realizing that I needed to change the question from 'what can God do for me in my life'? to 'what can I do for God in my life'?  As I entered the 'fall season' of my life I experienced a great sense of gratitude, and began asking myself what I could do for God with the gifts and talents God had given me.  These were heavy questions, that I often pondered on long walks with my faithful companion through the woods near our home, or while sitting at my desk alone, writing in my journal as Luigi lay down beside me on the rug.  It wasn't an easy time, I decided to leave the non-profit organization I had worked in for 28 years and this led to two other jobs in 3 years with Catholic faith based institutions that while attractive at the time, turned out not to be a good match for what I thought I was searching for.  This past year, I was left unemployed with no job to go to for the first time in my professional career.  I experienced a brush with depression, and watched as two of our adult children confronted life threatening health issues.  Our oldest son was diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumor that thankfully was caught at an early stage and is remaining in remission with chemotherapy and radiation treatments.  And our youngest daughter almost lost her life from an e-coli blood infection she received while in the hospital delivering her first child (our 7th grandchild).

     I know what you're thinking, everyone has problems in life, what make your problems so unique.? Nothing I suppose, but I do think that while some people need and benefit from having the love and support of family around them when life challenges them, some also benefit from the companionship of a pet.  Luigi greeted me every morning with a wag of his tail and snuggled up to me at the end of of the day with his warm body next to mine. He never judged me, never turned away from me in anger, never asked more of me that I could give, yet gave me everything he had, every day of his life.  I think Luigi sensed that my mid-life journey was one I had to take alone, and that while he couldn't give me all the answers to the questions I was asking, he could love me, support me, and allow me the time and space to go deep inside of myself and discover the answers. And so I have, and when I did, Luigi knew his own personal mission on earth was complete.

    Luigi has been in failing health the past 6 months.  He turned 13 years of age last August (2008), and I began noticing that our walks were getting shorter and he lagged behind me more often, with a slower gait and sometime he'd actually fall during our walk.  He was also experiencing incontinence in the house, at first we thought he was just having a few 'accidents' but in reality he was having difficulty squatting to relieve himself and often his feces would simply fall out his backside with him even noticing.  As I suspected, my family was first to realize that the time had come to put Luigi down, and it was I who was refusing to see how his quality of life had deteriorated.  I was refusing to see Luigi the way he had always seen me, 'with my heart', and like alot of pet owners I was keeping my dog alive 'for me'.  My wife said that while I was gone during the day, Luigi was a different dog, simly lying on his pillow with one paw over his eyes as if to hide from the shame of laying in his own feces, and then when he was let outside, she would watch him have difficulty walking up the deck steps in the backyard, feeling a need to go out and lift his hind legs to help him.  Of course, when I came home, he would try to bounce up from his pillow and walk toward me with that wag of his tail, but it was all an act.  I think what really helped me realize my own selfishness at the end of his life, was when my wife said to me "you know, he's just staying alive for you Bill", you need to tell him its' ok to go.

     I thought I would allow Luigi one last Christmas with us, but thought better of it when I reflected on the true meaning of Christmas.  Christmas was about 'love' the love God had for us by sending his only beloved son and in turn we are to express that love to those we love in this life with our 'gifts'.  And so, I decided it was time to give Luigi a special gift and allow him to move ahead of me to heaven where he would relive our special time together and get back that spring in his step, and glint in his eyes both of which had faded with old age.  Our last 'walk together' was on a cold December afternoon through the snow in the park that he loved to romp in with me.  I don't think it was an accident that on this walk we saw a younger man playing with his dog.  The man was throwing a stick and his young pup was charging ahead to fetch it, oblivious to the two 'older folks' who walking by on the path.  I cried out to the young man, 'how old'? and he smiled saying his dog was 3 years old.  Luigi and I paused and glanced over to both of them so that we could both flash back to those days we romped together in the park, for Luigi it was a I thought a chance for him to see back where he had been in his life, and flash forward to where he was going, and where he would faithfully wait for his master once again.

     Our youngest daughter Laura, who was with my wife when they rescued Luigi as a pup from the shelter those many years ago, insisted on accompanying me on that 'last ride to the vets' office.  She stayed by my side as I held Luigi in my arms for the last time and watched him slowly close his eyes in peace.  Before the two of us got back into the car for the ride home to a house that would somehow 'seem like it was missing something', I took a piece of paper in my pocket and read it one more time.   I had printed out earlier that day, a poem written by Rudyard Kipling.  The poem seemed particularly appropriate as i fought back tears on the ride home that evening:

A DOG FOR JESUS

I wish someone had given Jesus a dog/As loyal and loving as mine/To sleep by his manger/and gaze in His eyes/And adore him for being devine

As our Lord grew to manhood His faithful dog/would have followed him all through the day/while he preached to the crowds and made the sick well/and knelt in the garden to pray

It is sad to remember that Christ went away/to face death alone and apart/with no tender dog following close behind/to comfort his masters heart

And when Jesus rose on that Easter morn/how happy he would have been/as his dog kissed his hands and barked its delight/for the one who died for all men

Well, the Lord has a dog now, I just sent him mine/the old pal so dear to me/And I smile throught my tears on this first day alone/knowing they're in eternity

Day after day, the whole day through/wherever my road inclined/four feet said, "I am coming with you!"/And I trotted along behind.......