Showing posts with label Italian. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Italian. Show all posts

Sunday, March 16, 2014

Man vs Animal

Masiniello; Neopolitan Mastiff; the best dog I ever had growing up


She opened the door and he saw boxes everywhere. He closed the door behind him, “Did you just move in?”
“No, I’ve been here for a while.” She took off her shoes, “just sit anywhere and I’ll be right back.” and she headed up the stairs.
 
He looked around. There weren’t many places to sit, but, if he moved a stack of boxes slightly to the right, he could sit on the couch. Putting his foot to the base of the stack and pushing, he made a window in front of the couch big enough to sit down in. He sat down; stretched his legs out in front of him, crossing his ankles, putting an arm over top of the couch.
He heard a strange clicking sound, but couldn’t see around the stacked boxes. He sat up, hearing the noise louder as it seemed to come closer.
He saw a huge grey shape lope from behind the boxes. It walked up to him and seated itself onto his feet. He knew it was a dog, but couldn’t place the breed; he’d never seen one so big before. Looking away from the steel blue eyes that seemed to bore a hole through him, he attempted to move his feet and heard a menacing growl.
“Ah, Gee?”
The dog never moved and continued to stare at him. Laces of drool were descending from the corners of the dog’s mouth and would soon reach his jeans.
“Gee?” he said, slightly louder.
“I’ll be down in a minute
He nodded, “That’s fine, but uhm, your dog.”
“If he’s sitting on your feet, just push him away; he doesn’t bite; he’s a sweetie; his name is Masiniello; Masi for short.”
He looked at the ominous presence before him.
“Okay, Masi, she says you’re a sweetie.”
He put a hand on each of the dog’s massive shoulders and felt the hard muscle beneath the loose skin; he pushed lightly at first, but then with more force. The dog did not budge, but a rumbling came from deep in its chest and was slowly getting louder. Looking to the dog’s sagging face, he saw an almost imperceptible, but undeniable raising of the dog’s lips. Andy took his hands off immediately and sat back in an attempt to put as much distance as he could between him and the huge teeth he knew were hiding under those jowls.
“Gee?”
He knew his voice had a somewhat urgent pleading tone to it, but he couldn’t help it.
“Masi?” Andy heard her voice from somewhere behind the boxes.
The big dog turned his great head towards the sound of his master’s voice, his tail thumping the wooden floor, sounding like a base drum.
“What’s Masi doing?”
Andy almost sighed with relief when he saw her appear from around the boxes. He could tell the dog wanted to go to her, but acted like he didn’t want to lose his quarry. Andy made another attempt to move his feet and was again rewarded with growling.
“Masiniello, you stop that. You’re scaring Andy; you know you’re just a big coward.” She bent and put her hands on her thighs, “you come here now, or I’ll show Andy your rubber ducky.”
Andy could see that the big dog was torn about what he should do.
“Okay Masi” she turned to leave and Andy’s heart dropped, “I was going to take you for a walk, but I guess I’ll just go alone.”
He didn’t think something that large could move as fast as he did. One minute, he was on Andy’s feet; the next he was jumping onto Gee. Andy winced when the dog collided with her, but to his surprise, Masi pulled up short, just as collision was imminent. Andy could see that the two had been together a long time and knew each other’s limits. The way the huge animal was acting; rubbing on Gee as she scratched him behind the ears and at the base of his tail almost made Andy forget the fear he felt before.
“Now sit” she said and the dog dropped immediately to obey. Andy laughed when Gee had to push him off her feet or risk falling down. Andy saw the mutual adoration as the big dog looked up and Gee looked down to meet his eyes.
“This is Andy.” She told him, “he’s a good guy.” She wondered how she knew; having only met him hours before, but she did know. She looked over to where Andy stood and smiled; he smiled back at her. Masi saw the exchange and Andy heard the growling again.
“Masiniello you stop that” she tapped the dog between the eyes, “now you go give Andy a proper hello.”
Andy looked at her horrified.
The big dog was loping up to him; his tail between his legs; just obeying his master.
“That’s really not necessary.” Andy stammered.
Masi looked back at her; as if to ask if he really had to.
“Go on”
“Gee, that’s okay; if he doesn’t want to”
But Masi had heard and obeyed. He stopped in front of Andy; jumped up and placed his front paws on Andy’s shoulders.
It was a bit disconcerting to see those steel blue eyes level with his.
“Aww; that’s a good Masi. Now give Andy a kiss.”
Andy tried to protest, but could only close his eyes and prepare for impact when he saw the enormous pink tongue coming straight at him. He felt wetness cover his whole face. Then he felt the dog’s weight leave his shoulders.
He opened his eyes and saw Gee standing with her hand over her mouth; trying not to laugh. She held a towel out to him.
“You did that on purpose.” He wiped his face, but could still feel the stickiness of the drool, “bathroom?” he asked.
She pointed to her left and burst out laughing as he passed her. She heard the bathroom door close.
He looked in the mirror and saw that the drool had reached his forehead, causing a huge cowlick in his hair.
He corrected himself, “Dog lick you mean.” And he smiled.
She was nervous. What if Andy got mad at her? Maybe she shouldn’t have made Masi lick him; maybe that was going a little too far. She felt the dog on her feet again and gave him a rub. She heard a sound coming from the bathroom and relaxed when she realized it was laughter. She squat down to hug her big baby.
“You like him too don’t you?”

Saturday, June 15, 2013

The Bench

The bench I saw on my ride

                 I love riding my bike. On my bike; I can get away from “Mom” and “Where did you put…” I can listen to my music, get some exercise and just get away. Usually, I try to ride as fast as I possibly can, only stopping for big trucks (but now they put in a crosswalk, so I don’t have to stop…right?)
               So, imagine my surprise when I saw this had been erected on my bike path. I passed it and wasn't sure that I saw what I thought I saw. Was there really a bench there? I reluctantly turned my bike around and went back; stopping abruptly when I saw it.
                I got off my bike and put the kickstand down. I took off my helmet and put it on my bike seat, took out my ear buds and moved my sunglasses to the top of my head. I walked to the bench and at first I was kind of offended that someone would place it here; disturbing the natural beauty. I sat down on it and found that it wasn't so bad. And it reminded me of one of my mom’s favorite stories.
                I love my mom; she is my lifeline and has picked me up and dusted me off many, many times. She has taught me when to stay quiet (her favorite advice is “Shut Up”) and when to stand up and be heard (“Even the monkeys in the zoo, when they see somebody go oo oo.”)
                And I love my mom’s stories. She was born in Italy; where life was less complicated than it is now; but I digress. This story is about that bench.
                I guess it was a couple months after mom and dad were married; they had a huge fight. My mother walked out of their apartment and stomped to the car only to find that she had left her keys in the apartment with my dad; and she sure wasn’t going back there. So, she headed for the park (Where else would a woman go in the middle of December in Chicago?)
                She walked a couple of blocks to the park. When she got there, she saw that the bench was occupied by an elderly couple, holding hands. My mom turned her back and started crying; thinking how could her husband be so stubborn and such.
                When she turned back around, she saw that the old man was walking away, and the little old woman on the bench was waving her over and patting the empty seat next to her. My mom looked around, but she was the only one in the vicinity. She pointed to herself and the old woman nodded and beckoned to her again. So my mom walked over and sat down.
                The old woman started talking and mom listened. She told her that she had been married for 47 years to that little old man there, and there were still days that she wanted to kill him. But she couldn’t imagine life without him. My mom sniffed at that and the woman put her arm through my mom’s.
                “Let me tell you one thing. You want to know how I support (it’s a different word in Italian; means to put up with or stomach someone, but in a more loving way) him?” She leaned away from my mom and waited for her to respond.
                My mom asked, “How?”
                Her face got that typical “Italian” expression (If you’re Italian; you understand. If not, the best way I can describe it is if you taste something that is just average and someone asks you about it)
                “Mmmm…I don’t listen.”
                My mom laughed at that and the woman went on.
                “He talk; he talk. Don’t do this; don’t do that. I don’t listen.”
                “Doesn’t he get mad?” my mom asked.
                She shrugged, “He get mad, so what?”
                My mom looked a little doubtful, “But he’s the head of the house; I have to listen.”
                The woman pulled her closer and lowered her voice, “He is the head, yes, but you are the neck.”
                My mom pulled back and she winked and pulled her close again; they now sat huddled; their heads together.
                The old woman whispered, “The head cannot hold itself up; he needs the neck.”
                My mom smiled; seeing the truth in what she said.
                “So, when he say, ‘you don’t do this right’ and his face she turn red, I say, ‘Oh, you can show me? You know how, so you show me then I do right’, then he say, ‘Yes, I am the head; you must listen.’ And he show me. Next time, he say, ‘you do the way I show?’ and I say, ‘ma sure’ and he say, “see, is good now.’”
She pulled mom even closer, “But you know what?”
                She looked at my mom with the same “Italian” expression and my mom; wide eyed asked, “What?”
                “I no do his way; I only say I do his way.”
                My mom was shocked, “But what if he finds out?”
                She gave my mom the Italian hand gesture (put all your fingertips together and shake it a couple of times), “What find out?” she pulled her closer, “He no care; he just want to know I do his way.”
                My mom pulled back and looked at her.
                She nodded and winked holding her head up.
                “He want to be the head. You say okay and don’t listen. But remember” she shook a crooked finger in mom’s face, “no argue; only yes, I do your way.” She winked, “You are the neck.”
                My mom thought about the fight she had with my dad and wondered if she had followed this woman’s advice, would it have gone this far?
                The old man came back, “Come, we go now, I’m cold.”
                The woman winked at her then rose, “Okay, we go.”
                She turned back and grabbed her purse. She lowered her head to my mom, “Remember, the head can’t hold up itself; the neck she is more important.”
                My mom watched the old couple walk away. She took herself home and from that day on, she followed the woman’s advice.

                I smiled; lowering my sunglasses, putting my ear buds back in; strapping my helmet on. I put up the kickstand and mounted my bike. As I kicked off, I looked back, yes, that’s a perfect place for that bench.