Because I am so naturally funny (see, that made you chuckle, didn’t it?), I often give my mom a hard time about her obsession with her little dog Rudy.
Just the other day, I went over to her house to tell her I was going to be the opening act for Tim McGraw next summer. The fact that is an outright lie is beside the point (but it was funny, wasn’t it?). The way my mom responded entirely IS the point. Without acknowledging my comment in the least, she said, “Did I tell you what Rudy did the other day?”
Rudy, Rudy, Rudy. She lives and breathes for Rudy.
I joked, “You’re more concerned about him than you ever were with us kids when we were younger. Remember when I was a senior in high school? You and Dad went to Rio de Janeiro for like a month. You just left us to fend for ourselves.”
“We left you money.”
“You threw a $20 bill on the kitchen table and the phone number to Cassano’s,” I say.
“We stayed in contact.”
“Yeah, after we hired a private detective to locate you.”
But Mom did not flinch. “You all turned out okay.”
Still, I pressed on. “Suppose we all chip in and put you on a cruise around the Caribbean for a couple of weeks. All expenses paid. And our whole family will go with you,” I say.
“Rudy doesn’t like boats,” she’d say.
“Okay, suppose we put you on a bus to New York City and get you tickets to some of the best plays on Broadway. You can live it up in style, without a care in the world.”
“Rudy doesn’t like the city.”
So I make like a hot-shot lawyer who zeroes in for the kill on cross-examination. Case closed. No further questions. “So is there a wedding, a birth, a graduation or any kind of vacation that you would ever leave Rudy to attend?” I ask. But I already know the answer.
“He’s a good boy, isn’t he? It’s like he’s a real person.”
In other words, no. She’s not going anywhere without Rudy.
…
I THOUGHT OF MY MOM and Rudy the other night when Kim and I saw “A Dog’s Purpose,” a film featuring Dennis Quaid but actually starring a dog named Bailey.
Bailey asks a recurring question throughout the movie: “What is my purpose for living?” Over and over, he lives and dies and lives again in the form of several different dogs, with different owners and different roles. All the while, he wonders aloud where he fits into the grand scheme of the universe.
I won’t spoil the ending, but in the end Bailey discovers his purpose.
It made me think of Rudy, and the purpose he has in my mom’s life. Several things came to mind.
1) He is a model of unconditional love. Mom has visitors and gets phone calls, and all of them are a reminder of what she means to so many people. But Rudy goes out of his mind — literally berserk — when Mom walks in the front door, gives him a treat, opens the refrigerator or just sits on the couch. A dog’s love is out of this world.
2) He is a reminder happiness comes through giving, not getting. By caring for Rudy, Mom is distracted from the frustration of getting older, and the aches and pains that come along with it. In that regard, Rudy’s purpose is to give my mom purpose. He is her world. It’s been said, “If you want to make yourself miserable, make life entirely about you.”
3) He enjoys his life, even though he can’t possibly see the big picture. Rudy doesn’t know the first thing about running the dishwasher, driving a car or running a business. As smart as he is, there are a multitude of things he cannot possibly understand (much like humans in a world created by God). But Rudy could care less, because all he needs is food and walks and endless moments at my mom’s side. He soaks it all in and enjoys every moment. In that respect, he epitomizes the words of the Eagles’ song, “Take It Easy.”
That's something we should all try to do.
…
ON MY WAY HOME FROM work tomorrow, after a challenging day dealing with difficult issues, I will take a break and stop to see Mom. She will be watching a “Reba” rerun or one of the cable news channels (also reruns, if you ask me), and we will talk about her life. Inevitably, we will turn to the “good old days,” back when she was a young woman making her way in the world, with a job and apartment in Dayton in the late 50s. It is one of her favorite topics, besides Rudy.
As we talk, little Rudy will be at her side, fully content just to in her presence. There is no place he would rather be.
As I go to leave, Rudy will walk me to the door. Then Mom will say something like, “You’re staying here with me, Rudy,” and once again she will tell me how much he means to her.
“I tell you, I don’t know what I would do without this dog,” she will say.
Rudy will stop and look puzzled. Then I swear he will say these words:
“When did we get a dog?”