Head of School’s Notebook: Home for Thanksgiving

December 9, 2021

There is a great line credited to Bilbo Baggins, the Hobbit made famous by J.R.R. Tolkein.  “It’s a dangerous business going out of your door,” he said,” … there is no knowing where you might be swept off to.” I thought of that line just a few weeks ago when I stepped out the door of Mesa House at 2:30 a.m. on a Sunday to catch an early flight out of LAX to Hartford, Connecticut. Two years it had been since I had seen my family, and my excitement was mixed with a little trepidation about traveling again and worry that I might unwittingly bring COVID-19 into my 85-year-old father’s home. It’s the risk assessment we are all managing these days.

I was ready for a nap by the time I got to the gate, but my drowsiness subsided when I was paged. Maybe I got upgraded, I thought. How cool would that be? Legs the length of mine don’t fit well on airplanes.

Nope. No upgrade.

“Do you have any problem with dogs?” the United Airlines representative asked.

I was wearing my Diamond R Kennels hat. Does too much affection qualify as a problem? “No,” I said. “I don’t think so.”

And that was the extent of the conversation. The gate agent just nodded and moved off to talk with someone else. “How strange,” I said to no one in particular.

Ten minutes later I got to my seat and encountered Vito, a 155-pound Mastiff, occupying the entire row of seats abutting mine. Adorned in his red service dog cape, Vito looked like a mix of Superman and Underdog; he was enormous, rippling with muscles and jowl flaps, drooling just a bit, and feverishly wagging the shortest, stubbiest tail imaginable. Beside Vito was his owner, Frank, who was as friendly as his pup.

“I left something for you on your seat,” Frank said after introducing himself and his one-and-a-half-year-old dog. Frank, too, had been away from his family on the east coast and was also traveling to Hartford. Vito would be meeting the family for the first time. It’s funny, but I could hear both excitement and trepidation in Frank’s voice. Vito was with him for a reason. Vito clearly gave Frank comfort and vice versa. But Frank worried too, it seemed, about me and perhaps other passengers who might be uncomfortable around Vito. He was the reason the gate agent had posed the question that she did. Frank wanted to make sure I would be comfortable.

And it’s not like anyone could walk by our row and not notice Vito. In truth, everybody stopped and looked, and most asked if they could pet Vito. At one point Vito took up residence in the aisle, but he had to move back to his seat because no one could get to the bathroom. It felt like we were in a Marmaduke cartoon.

I picked up the parcel Frank had left on my seat. Vito placed his head on my knee as I unwrapped some snacks, some wet wipes (handy given the drool), hand sanitizer, a five-dollar bill, and a note. It read:

Hi there! This is our first time flying back home in two years due to the pandemic. I know my service animal is a little large, so we packed you some goodies and a little coffee cash for when you arrive at your destination. I hope we aren’t an inconvenience and we wish you safe travels this holiday season.

Sincerely,

Frank and Vito

An inconvenience? More like the highlight of my trip. I took pictures. Vito slept on my feet and on a few occasions tried to climb into my lap. When he wagged his little tail his whole rear end shook. His paw, which Vito had a tendency to put on my leg, was as big as my hand. And the trip was unforgettable.

Frank told me that there were actually six dogs on that flight. All of them offering someone the comfort needed to board a plane and fly across the country.  Ironically, on my return trip I would again be placed next to a pup, an 11-week old miniature schnauzer named Eleanor. A tiny morsel compared to Vito but just as sweet and friendly. She cuddled up at one point in the palm of my hand. And I, too, was content.

That’s the point, I suppose. Pressures of one sort or another get to us all, and we manage them as best we can each in our own way. That’s what Bilbo was talking about. For some, companions of a sort make a difference, make it okay to step out the door, make what might have once seemed impossible possible.

That’s how Vito and Frank finally got home for Thanksgiving.