A dear piggy Facebook friend--yes, a pig--died three days ago and left so many people around the globe feeling empty and heartbroken. Thousands of people, mostly those who have developed a love for the porcine species, myself among them, are in mourning because Duwee Russell Lupton, a Kunekune miniature pet pig who lived in the English countryside, is no longer able to cheer us with his simple barnyard pleasures and his calm, positive personality.
Facebook is a funny creature that most of us who use it appreciate and like--at times-- and, at other times, find very annoying. People quibble about politics; they complain about their jobs; they brag about their leisure activities and love lives that make the rest of us feel as though we have no lives at all. At other times they are happy, celebratory, and content, but, often, Facebook friends tend to be happy, well: "not so much."
Whenever a post rolled onto my Newsfeed from Duwee, however, I turned to read it instead of scrolling to another entry. Duwee always, always made me feel good, positive, appreciative of being alive, no matter what was bothering me. He was a pig, after all, who led a simple life alongside Poppy, then Lilli, his chickens, and a goat, and he reported happily and most every day about his Lilli pig who seemed always to be getting into trouble at home, though he related the story with amusement every time. And if one of his barnyard friends died, Duwee took the event courageously, vowing to meet his brother or sister when, at last, he, too, journeyed over the Rainbow Bridge.
And now he has.
Of course, I realize that the voice of Doo, as he was affectionately known among his Facebook friends, actually came from his human mom, Sue, and his dad, Dave. It was mostly Sue, I believe, who spoke for Duwee. Duwee's, or Sue's, voice was the voice of kindness, acceptance: one of not taking a simple farm life, or any life, however one lives it, for granted. With each post I could look to Doo for comfort, for contentment, for positive thinking, for acceptance. All of us--his friends--looked forward to sharing in Doo's barnyard adventures. And we were sad when he had problems with his feet and began to age and have seizures. Most of us have been following Doo for ten years or so. To us, Duwee was a daily presence--a bandaid on our lives' wounds--and a soothing voice that subtlely urged us to appreciate and get back to nature, her animals, and the earth he so lovingly turned over and over with his nose. Duwee's voice, without saying so in words, saw the joy, through technology, of turning away from technology: our cell phones, computers, Facebook, even, and living in the simple, precious moment of a fellow creature, whether it be a person or an animal. He encouraged the simple life, love, appreciation of others, especially for pigs and other pets. He was an emotional, supportive force that kept all of us pig people on the right track, the honest track of real life, earthy life.
What will we all do without Doo? What will we all do without his mom, Sue, speaking through us--guiding us to appreciate and be joyful for each day, each slice of watermelon, every grape, and succulent morsel we bring to our lips?
The best we can do is live up to the legacy of Duwee Russel Lupton. We can live as though we are all little Doos: joyfully participating in life in all its riches, its flavors, its animals, its nature. Duwee would have us all wallow happily in life, as he did--not complain, not wish away our workdays, not whine about traffic jams or department store lines.
Duwee would have us lying in the sun, soaking up the warmth and smiling, feeling the good heat on our skin. He would have us relishing each meal as if it were our last one. He would have us enjoying a spider building its intricate net across a doorway. He would have us content, calm, accepting. Duwee would have us be like him: always positive, always looking forward to the next day, the next experience in our human "banyards." And he would always have us wearing a crazy hat--evidence of his humor and enthusiasm for life.
I surely will miss seeing and hearing about Duwee Russell Lupton's antics on Facebook, but he taught me well. I will try, despite my tendency to err because I am only human and quite flawed, to carry on Doo's legacy of positiveness and enthusiasm for living. I will try to complain and judge less. I will enjoy more walks in nature, not kill a spider simply because it walks. I will be "Doo for a Day"--not simply a day, but for most of my life.