A suburbanite came to Boston’s North End, the historic Italian neighborhood, and was enjoying cannoli and espresso at Mike’s Pastry, which opened in 1946. He noticed a funeral procession down Hanover Street. A black hearse was followed by a second black hearse. Behind the second hearse was a solitary man wearing a Juventus jersey walking a dog on a green, white, and red Italian-flag leash. Behind him, keeping a respectful distance, were nearly 200 men walking in single file.
The suburbanite couldn’t stand the curiosity. He respectfully approached the Italian man walking the dog and said, “I am so sorry for your loss, and I know that this is a bad time to disturb you, but I’ve never seen an Italian funeral and I’m trying to understand the protocol. First, whose funeral is it?”
“Mia moglie. Scusi. My wife’s.”
”What happened to her?”
“She-a yelled at me and my-a dog attacked and killed her.”
The suburbanite was horrified, but still curious. “Why is there a second hearse?”
“Mia suocera… I’m sorry. My mother-in-law. She-a came to help my wife and the dog turned on her and-a killed her also.”
In a poignant and touching moment of fellowship and brotherhood, silence passed between the two men.
After a decent interval, the suburbanite lowered his voice almost to a whisper and asked, “Can I borrow the dog?”
The Italian man replied, “Get in line.”
North End of Boston (mid-ground), during Month 3 of 14 Days to Flatten the Curve (May 2020; Tony Cammarata behind the camera and me behind the cyclic):
Mini-Goldendoodle with the heart of a lion in Stuart, Florida last month:
After the funeral, everyone got together for a few drinks and agreed: “The least we can do is help take care of the dog. Those were the worst two cases of suicide anyone ever seen.”