Rufus
In the mid-1970s I lived and worked in Rome for a Cambridge, Massachusetts-based architectural firm. One of the architects used to bring his dog in to work with him every day. His name was Rufus. He was a golden retriever. He loved everyone and enjoyed his days napping under his owner’s drawing board. I used to babysit Rufus when his owners were away. He was an adventuresome dog, full of curiosity and with a great sense of humor. His only downfall was thunder and lightning. He was terrified of both. His canine teeth were chipped from his younger days of carrying rocks on the beach at their home in Truro, Cape Cod.
He once accidentally got in the back of a station wagon full of kids and ended up in Boston. He also managed to get a few fish hooks lodged in the roof of his mouth when sniffing around fishermen trolling for bluefish. But in Rome, life offered a different set of challenges, a more urban selection of things to be curious about. Unfortunately, Rome also had thunder and lightning so that still plagued him.
One morning I went to the butcher to buy his chicken livers. The butcher had just opened so only half of the front door was open. In we went and ordered the chicken livers. Meanwhile Rufus spied a rack of lamb sitting in a plastic bin ready to be put in the refrigerated display case. He picked up the rack of lamb in his mouth and proceeded to leave the butcher shop but the rack was wider than the half open door and he could not get out. The butcher grabbed a handful of hamburger meat and threw it into the middle of the shop. “Attento, cane!” and Rufus no dope when it comes to food, dropped the rack of lamb and dove into his delicious burger, wagging his tail furiously. The butcher retrieved the rack of lamb, dusted it off, and put it on display.
On another occasion, I traveled by car with Rufus and his owners to Naples. The car was parked in front of the car rental with Rufus in the front seat. We were buying maps and plotting our itinerary. The next thing I see a man reaching into the front seat of the car and there is Rufus wagging his tail and licking the man’s face. The man was trying to steal our handbags sitting on the floor in the front of the car! I yell and the three of us give chase; the man ran away but without our handbags.
Eventually I had a baby and was not available to babysit him anymore. One day my son’s father and I were taking our son for a stroll through the immense park, Doria Pamphilli. I think I see, way off in the distance on the other side of the park a golden retriever. I am sure it is Rufus. What would he be doing there? I called him two or three times. He came bounding over carrying a rock in his mouth. Yup that’s Rufus. So we decide to leave the park and take him home. At the park’s main gate there is a young American babysitter holding his leash and practically in tears. She thought she had lost him for good.
At Christmas time, his owner taught him a very clever trick: to balance foil-covered chocolates on his nose for some seconds. A few days after Christmas we came back from Sunday lunch to find all the chocolates gone (foil and all) and the empty dish on the floor. Bad dog. It was this wrecklessness regarding food that one day would be his downfall. His owner was walking him to work and he was gobbling something in the gutter. Unfortunately they were eggshells laced with rat poisoning. Within hours, he was dead. His owner said it was like losing a child. Dear Rufus. May you rest in peace.