Every once in a while, thankfully not too often, something happens in our life that makes us reconsider the clock that can’t be stopped - the clock of life itself.
I got a call the other day from my Dad in Houston. He’ll be 80 in September. He’s in pretty good health - as is my Mom who turns 79 on Saturday. But, after decades of planning and worrying about their kids, my parents are now looking over their shoulder, concerned the ICEMAN or Grim Reaper or St. Peter or somebody in the human repo business is getting ready to make a house call. Both sets of my grandparents died relatively young - none made it deep into their 60’s and now they make it clear to anyone within earshot that they’re on borrowed time.
Because of my Dad’s quick wit and sharp memory, I have always felt that he would enjoy every last minute of life, unconcerned about just when he would check out, as we all will. Life has been so very good and yet so cruel to Dad. Fathers shouldn’t have to bury a son as my Dad did with my brother, let alone Grandchildren as he and mom did twice, but he got through it with that great sense of humor, amazing discipline, and strong Catholic Faith; that arsenal of mental toughness left no room for fear of what’s the next chapter - maybe 2 on a scale of 10. But something happened this week that turned the tough guy into jello. His dog, Eydie had to be put down on what would have been her 14th birthday. If you’re a dog person - even a cat lover - you know how pets can be as much a part of the family as some people, only much more loyal and forgiving. Eydie, a rascal of a Jack Russell Terrier was smarter than many people I know, certainly possessing more brains and common sense than the typical politician or broadcast executive. She was named after Eddie, the male Jack Russell who hung out with Frasier Crane’s old man on TV. Adopted from a Virginia breeder in 1999, Eydie bonded with my Dad in a few moments and was his constant companion until yesterday. Truthfully, she could be a nasty little critter at times, snapping or biting or barking to the point of distraction. But smart? Sometimes, it was a year between visits but she’d run right over to me and jump and cuddle. She knew instinctively that I was family and like my old man, odds on to feed her until she begged for a Pepto Bismol. I have in my home one of the cutest pictures you’ll ever see - a little puppy and a little boy: Eydie and my son PJ - born a week apart.
It seems like yesterday; we took a ride to Delaware and met Eydie for the first time. We celebrated with an Italian dinner and a beer in Brooklyn and for some very memorable events - good and bad; Edyie always seemed to be there. When the dot coms melted down, when the towers fell, for good times at the beach, horrible times too like the day an accident claimed my brother’s life and the expected but traumatic loss of a grandchild. Eydie was always loyal, always amusing, she had, like her owner, a mind of her own and a sense of humor. There were times I'm sure when Mom gave him the deli treatment: cold shoulder and hot tongue. Edyie made it clear that no worries, there’s another female in the house who loves you. Do dogs go to heaven? Well they do have a patron saint in Francis of Assisi, and if you know the Noah and the ark animals rate, if Eydie doesn't make it through the Pearly Gates, Saint Peter better have ear plugs, a big bag of biscuits, and pretty good line of Blarney. And if Eydie's not there when her owner arrives, Heaven will get a hell of an argument...
