Old Couple and a Dog

I am traveling back to my home country of Kyrgyzstan, for the first time since 2018. Sitting at JFK Terminal 1 now, waiting for the Turkish Air to open the counters for flight registration. This is my least favorite terminal at JFK: it hosts most international airlines, has very small and narrow waiting area for the departure flights with “only ticketed passengers” warning signs and virtually no seats. I have too large bags, so my mobility is limited and the elevator to the food court is not working. I’ve managed to find a seat in front of the counters I need, and won’t get up for fear of losing it. Lots of people come and go, I forgot how many people can travel internationally at the same time. I still have over 7 hours before my flight and time is suspended. I take out my laptop to write.

An older couple that just scored seats next to me have most sophisticated spats I’ve ever heard. They are highly eloquent and educated but oh boy their passive-aggressive communication is something of the next level. They are both in their 80s (the wife just told me they were starting on their 55th marriage anniversary tour of Europe, flying Italian airlines).

They have a dog, a big beautiful curly freshly groomed poodle? (I didn't ask the breed but it looked like a poodle or a mix) named Hobbs.

“We named him after the famous philosopher Hobbs, you know?” she said proudly and I didn’t know if it was a question or a statement. I nodded. “Because he is as intelligent as any philosopher.”

I was writing a story when they sat next to me, and it’s open in my computer.

“I’m not sure you are as good of a writer as Hobbs was, though,” she continued.

Is she talking to me? I tear my eyes off the screen and notice that the woman is actually talking to Hobbs, petting him behind his ear. She chuckled at her own joke.

I asked if Hobbs was a therapy or service dog. “No,” the woman said, “we are still pretty well-functioning on our own. We’ve just always had family dogs.

“May I pet him?” I asked.

“Sure,” the woman said. “Beware, though, he’ll be yours forever.”

I petted Hobbs on his head, neck and behind his ears. He licked my hand and plopped himself on my feet.

“Told you!” The woman said. “He’s yours now, you’ll have to fly with us.”

I smiled and rubbed Hobbs’ belly. He closed his eyes and rolled over, asking for more.

All this time, the woman was fending off her husband’s requests and remarks.

“Ruth, give me my passport and ticket, please,” he said. “I want to go to the bathroom.”

“You don’t need your passport and ticket in the bathroom, dear.”

“But I do! What if you decide to move while I’m there and we get separated?”

“I won’t move, dear, will wait for you right here,” she said and turned to tell me that they are both PhDs, anthropologists.

“Ruuuth,” the husband said again impatiently, “please give me my passport and ticket, I’ll take the dog outside before we fly.”

“Why do you need them outside?” She asked, again interrupting her conversation with me.

“For God’s sake, just give them to me, for my own peace of mind!” He demanded.

“Should have said so right away,” the woman mumbled and pulled two passports out of her purse. It took her awhile to look at them, as if she was studying something there she hadn’t seen before.

“Ruuuth, for God’s sake, give me my passport!”

“I’m giving you your passport, dear,” she said as if she was talking to an impatient petulant child. “Just wanted to make sure it’s yours, not mine.”

“Takes you so long!” He said, took his passport and went away.

We talked more about dogs and college life. Both were retired professors, Ruth said, and had lots of stories to swap. Some time later the husband came back, sat down and started to feed her Euros he got from the exchange.

“This is for you,” he said, giving her a 20, “for your personal expenses.”

She took the bill and said something to me.

“Actually, have this one, too!” He gave her 5.

“Thank you, dear,” she turned to me again.

“And this one,” he handed he a 10 Euro bill.

I watched in amusement. Is he jealous of her talking to me?

“Annoying, isn’t it?” She whispered to me. “I still love him, though.”

The husband got up, took Hobbs’ leash and headed toward the terminal exit.

“Vincent, did you take the poop bag?” She asked. He said yes quietly but she didn’t hear.

“Vincent??” She repeated louder.

“Yes!” He repeated but she didn’t hear again. The airport noises are too loud.

“Vincent, did you take the bag?” As he is moving away.

“He said yes,” I tell her.

“Yes!” Vincent yells back at her and walks away, clearly annoyed and mumbling something under his nose.

“Men, right?” Ruth said and started to read her book.

I went back to my writing.