“Congratulations, Linguini. You joined Aussie and me for a walk today, the first one since you came here. I thought it was a good thing to do on this 49th day of Henry’s death. I lit incense, and then marked it by taking you for our first walk together, especially as Lori was going to physical therapy, which sometimes tires her. Of course, first I had to catch you. You ran all around the house and then upstairs, and finally I found you on Lori’s bed, attached the leash, and off we went.”
“You didn’t catch me, I just let you get close because of the yummy liver treats you had on hand.”
“You whimpered the entire time sitting in the back seat of the car.”
“Because you didn’t open the window wide enough for me to push my head out and enjoy the scenery.”
“I was nervous that you might jump out of the car, Linguini. Once we reached our destination and started walking, you pulled and pulled on my arm.”
“Aussie was up ahead, free as a bird, and I was leashed!”
“I don’t dare take you off leash. You’re even smaller than Henry. After he was killed by coyotes, I promised myself I was never going to take a small dog into the woods again unless they’re on leash. Since that’s not my favorite thing to do, I can’t promise we’ll have lots of walks together, but we had one today.”
“I don’t know if I can trust you. You’re the one who lost Henry, right? I don’t even know who you are.”
“Linguini, I don’t know who I am, either. Today is a heavy day. The Jewish new year begins tonight, but other than cutting some Cosmo apple slices and coating them with honey for Lori and me, a symbol of our hope for a sweet new year, I don’t know how to celebrate it. Especially when it falls today, 25 years since 9/11.”
“What’s 9/11?”
“Exactly. You, Linguini, and many others like you have no idea about 9/11. Or you only have ideas about it, things others read in the papers. Since you’re a dog, you don’t even have that. You know what you run into today? Sad people. People with a heavy heart, like me. People trying to maintain hope in the face of that tragedy. They may not want to play, they may not be fun to be with, and you’ll have no idea why. That’s the interesting thing about karma.”
“Is that an Indian treat?”
“Karma is this infinite web of causes and effects which then become causes for more effects, which then become causes for more effects, etc. It’s infinite, and you and I, Aussie and Lori, are all part of that. That’s why it’s hard to understand why people do what they do. We think we know, and all kinds of psychologists and sociologists will analyze things forever, but actually we don’t know because we ourselves are caught in that same web. Energies run through us, Benny Linguini, and we don’t always see how or why. Still, we must go on.”
“I don’t think about that so much. And I still don’t know who you are, other than that you were the one who lost Henry.”
“Let’s say, Linguini, that I am playing a role.”
“You mean, like in a movie? Are you a movie star? What character are you playing?”
“Eve Marko.”
“Well, that’s not much of a starring role. But isn’t that you?”
“Not necessarily.”
“Isn’t Eve Marko the human who lives in this house and isn’t Lori?”
“Yes, for now. But I don’t know anything else about her. I know a few things she’s done or written or learned or even taught; I know what to write on her resume or even on the flap of a book cover, but does any of that present a comprehensive picture? No.”
“You mean, you don’t know what your life comes down to? But you’re so old! I mean, if you don’t know now, when will you ever know?”
“Probably never, Linguini. That’s why I say that I’m just playing a role, the role of Eve Marko, every moment.”
“Every moment? That’s a lot of work.”
“It feels so natural and intimate that I’m not aware of it much of the time. But occasionally, it comes up, like on a day like today, not only the eve of the Jewish new year but also the 25th anniversary of the mass killing of 9/11, especially in a city that I love more than any other city in the world. It was a perfect day, Linguini, just like today. Blue skies, dry, September air, everyone going to work, the season beginning. Sometimes, in remembering that, I find myself asking if there is a purpose to playing this role; that’s when I feel a little tired. After all, I’m 76, can’t I retire from playing it?”
“Not unless you get a pension.”
“Usually, health and these beautiful days of early fall are pension enough. Seeing you, Aussie, and Lori in the back yard yesterday playing in front of Kwan-yin while a strong breeze brought leaves down on freshly mown grass, that was pension enough. Lori was teaching you to catch and fetch, and you were pretty bad at it. At that point, though I didn’t ask her, I think we both thought of Henry, the Illegal Chihuahua, and what a great sports dog he was.”
“You thought about Henry while watching me? Is that fair?”
“See here, Linguini. Most people think that there’s a big wall between life and death, but it’s actually a billowing, fragile curtain. Whether we know it or not, we have one foot in life and the other in death.”
“I have both paws in life, thank you very much.”
“So did Henry, till he didn’t. So did thousands of people who were killed in 9/11. There is pathos in a life that’s comprised of both, and pathos can be very beautiful. Anyway, on a day like today, I come to the conclusion—not for the first time—that the purpose in playing the role of Eve Marko, if there is a purpose, is to see as clearly as I can what’s going on and serves the people and situation around me. At the very least, don’t do harm.”
“What happens if there is no purpose to the role of Eve Marko?”
“There probably isn’t. Just as there is no purpose to the role of Benny Linguini.”
“Can’t you ever retire from playing Eve Marko?”
“I don’t know. Don’t think I ever auditioned for it, have no memory of standing in line with hundreds of others trying to get that role, it seemed to come about all by itself.”
“The casting director must have thought you’d be good at it.”
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You can also send a check to: Eve Marko, POB 174, Montague, MA 01351. Please write on the memo line whether this is in support or immigrant families or of my blog. Thank you.
The Dogs of the Kiskadee Hills: Hunt for the Lynx begins a trilogy about a society of dogs after humans have destroyed themselves and much of the world. Living with their families and clans in the Kiskadee Hills, they’ve developed over generations a rich tradition and way of life, and have prospered. But now, an unknown killer is butchering the Kisdees of the Hills.