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Honestly, it was a miracle Ludger had survived this long. Back in June, when Klopp had taken Ludger to the animal clinic, the veterinarian handed the owl back to Klopp in his cage and said that he only had a couple of weeks left. That had been in late June.
But then Ludger pulled through July with a reinvigorated energy. He took his usual place on Klopp's left shoulder as they rewatched the highlights of their first preseason game, the DFB-Frauen's opening World Cup match, and Swanson's videos of him throwing himself into the pool. Hey, they had to take breaks from football once in a while.
By August, Klopp was sure Ludger only had a few days left to live. He'd started looking up animal memorial ideas, and coping techniques. But when Ludger woke up bright and early on the 11th of August, beating his wings like a particularly moody teenage owl, Klopp stopped fearing impending tragedy and started believing Ludger would survive.
He'd had to leave Ludger behind during the opening day's trip to London. Owls and air travel did not mix.
At first, Klopp was scared to death that something would happen to Ludger while he was away. But when he returned to the office in Kirkby, Ludger was present and healthy, vibing to his favorite rock album. Klopp could’ve sworn that he’d even screeched along to the screams in “Smooth Criminal”.
Klopp still took Ludger to Anfield for their first home game, and to Tyneside for their match against Newcastle. He’d resolved to take Ludger to every game possible, as long as they didn’t have to go by plane. Ludger was a living reminder of the start of his managerial career, and he’d stuck with him for more than two decades. It was an abnormally long time for an owl to live, equivalent to a supercentenarian age in humans.
Unfortunately, even the longest days have their sunsets.
*
“Ludi! I’m back!” Klopp opened the hotel room door. The owl's cage stood on the dresser, covered with its usual canvas sheet. Klopp didn’t like to leave Ludger with his cage uncovered, but Ludger had been sleeping before the team had left for the stadium. Ludger had been sleeping more nowadays.
It wasn’t just sleep that had increased in Ludger. The owl had been more easygoing, ditching his previous hot temper and high spirits for a laidback, almost passive demeanor. He didn’t eat half as much as he used to, and more often than not was found half-asleep on Klopp’s shoulder than flying around Kirkby, annoying the residents and causing chaos. Klopp had been worried at first, but after a while, he linked it to old age.
“You won't believe what happened today! We were 1-0 down, and then there was a red card! Enter Captain Trentski, jaaaaa ! And then we're at our lowest point...but then Ali pounces and keeps the ball out, like a cat! He's got nine million lives, baby! Enter Darwin, the master of chaotic, beautiful evolution! Hot as a model! Strike two, two goals in! We win it in stoppage time! SHUT UP, JASON!”
Oddly, there was no response from the cage. Normally, Ludger would make a grand commotion and demand that the canvas be removed from the cage. But it was as if Ludger hadn't even heard Klopp talking.
Maybe he's just asleep, Klopp thought. He stood next to the cage and lifted the corner of the canvas, watching Ludger intently. He noticed the bird was still motionless. Klopp frowned, an uneasy feeling coming over him.
"Ludi, I'm back! Can you hear me?" Klopp put on a pair of latex gloves, unzipped a plastic bag, and held up a strip of chicken. It wasn't ideal food for owls, but it was Ludger's favorite treat. "Come on, eat up, Eulechen ! It's chicken, your favorite!"
Klopp dangled the chicken strip in front of a gap in the cage. Ludger still didn't move. Klopp was growing frustrated. He tried a few more times, but Ludger still didn't come closer.
"Ludger Edmund Klopp, you will respond when I call you, okay?" Klopp gave up and put the chicken back in its bag. "What about a hug? Do you want a hug, Eulechen ?”
Still nothing.
“Herr Mürrisch. Grumpy little owl. ” Klopp chuckled, although he was more nervous than amused. "At least try to peck on my shoulder, buddy. Please? Please move!"
But Ludger didn't respond. He didn't even make a sound. Panicked, Klopp threw the canvas off the cage. Ludger lay flat on the bottom of the cage, lifeless.
Klopp opened the cage door, nearly ripping it off, and frantically checked the cage for any signs of life. He put two fingers on Ludger's chest like the vet had instructed him. He couldn't feel a pulse, not even a weak one. He parted the owl's feathers and checked again. Still nothing.
He jumped. His hat fell, but he didn't care. He backed away from the cage as if there was a poisonous needle inching closer to him. Forgetting the shower he'd wanted to take in the first place, he ran out of the hotel room and shut the door.
"PEP!"
*
Lijnders was just finishing up in the shower when he heard a frantic knocking on the door. Struggling to pull on his trousers and shirt, he opened the door. Klopp stood there, utterly panicked.
"What's the—”
Lijnders never got to finish. Klopp threw himself onto Lijnders, hugging the other man tight as if it were a survival mechanism. Klopp's grip was tight, and Lijnders barely managed to extract his arms from Klopp's embrace to hug him back.
“What happened?" Lijnders asked again. "I thought you were going to take a shower.”
"It's...it's Ludi." Klopp didn't let go of Lijnders, instead clinging to him tighter. “ Unsere Eulechen ...he's gone."
"Gone? What do you— oh . Oh, no." Lijnders placed his hands on Klopp's shoulders and pulled him away, looking into his eyes. "What happened?" he asked, his voice gentle and reassuring.
Klopp, in a rare moment of speechlessness, simply held up a small brown string with beads and feathers. Lijnders' eyes widened when he realized that it was—had been—Ludger's favorite toy.
"He's gone, Pep. I walked into the room and he was gone. He was still, he was cold, he was gone." Klopp's voice trembled as he spoke, the pain and sorrow evident in the lines of his face. "I thought he would live, Pep. The vet said he was going to die, but that was back in June. When he made it through July and the first two weeks of August...I thought he was going to live.”
“He was an owl supercentenarian. He lived even longer than the veterinarian expected.” Lijnders didn’t know what else to say.
“Oh…I know. But I still hoped he’d surprise us and last longer.”
*
The drive back to Kirkby was chaotic, to say the least. The players were tired but pumped from their victory. That included Mac Allister, who was positively buzzing over his best friend’s heroics in the match.
“ Do it! Do it!” Mac Allister chanted as Van McCoy’s “Hustle” played in the background. “ Do the Darwin!”
“ Do the Darwin!” the others echoed. Even Van Dijk, who’d gotten red-carded early in the match, sang along after he’d woken up from his brief slumber on Alisson’s shoulder.
“Have you lunatics ever heard of volume regulation before?” Endo grumbled from his seat. Ever since his arrival at the club, he’d quickly become the resident grump. “The boss is going to get a headache from all our noise.”
Jota turned down the music so they could hear each other talk. “I don’t think the boss cares about the music. He’s not spoken at all since we got on the bus.”
“You’re right. I can’t even hear him speaking with the vice-boss.” Adrian took off his Sir Elton John-esque sunglasses, hanging them off his T-shirt collar. “Should we check on him?”
“Well, the bus is moving, right? And Lijnders isn’t panicking,” Van Dijk pointed out. “Maybe we should wait until we’re off the road. We’re not far away from Kirkby, after all. It might be safer, depending on what the problem is.”
“If it’s that bad, then the boss shouldn’t even be driving at all. Driving with a heavy mind is just as dangerous as driving under the influence,” Elliott argued. “Why don’t we check on him now?”
“ Muy buena idea, muchacho. Let’s check now.” Nunez took Bajcetic and Elliott’s hands and dragged them away from their celebrating teammates. “ Vamos! We’ll be back soon.”
The three made their way to the driver’s cabin and opened the door, hiding behind the door jamb. To their surprise, Lijnders was the one in the driver’s seat. Klopp cradled a dark wooden box, his hat lowered so it covered his eyes.
“Only fifteen minutes to go, Jurgen,” they heard Lijnders say. “What are you going to do now?”
“I don’t know. I just don’t know.”
The trio exchanged confused and worried glances. That did not sound like a manager who’d seen one of the most positively shocking matches in the more than one thousand matches of his career. He didn’t sound like the coach of a team who’d come from a goal down and a player down to win the game at the last minute.
“This sounds serious,” said Bajcetic, holding onto the doorway. “Should we leave them alone?”
Elliott shook his head. “Nah, if it’s this serious we should know.”
“I never imagined being without him, even before the vet told me the news.” A long sigh, then quick, shallow breaths. “ It’s going to be lonely in the office without him.”
“Well…you’ve got me. And the other guys, too. There’s Moneta, and Lexi’s snails.”
“You know what I mean, Pep. Things won’t be the same without Ludger.”
Elliott, Nunez, and Bajcetic’s jaws dropped. “Without Ludger?!”
“What does the boss mean, without Ludger?” Bajcetic wondered aloud. “Where is he now?”
“I thought I heard Hendo talk with the boss about Ludger last June,” Elliott admitted. “He did look sick…but then he got better! He’s not dead…is he?”
Nunez shook his head slowly, but his eyes had a familiar glint. “I’m afraid so, guys. But I think we can help.”
“Huh?” Elliott and Bajcetic didn’t get it.
Nunez grinned, pointing to a bunch of trees outside the bus. “Ludger was an owl, and owls are birds. So if we get the boss another bird, he won’t be lonely anymore.”
Elliott stroked his chin in thought, considering the idea. “Well…it’s a risky idea, Darwizzy. But then again, who are we to back down from something because it’s risky?”
*
They buried Ludger in the botanical gardens next to the cemetery. For some reason, Ludger had always liked those gardens, even though Klopp thought they were creepy.
Klopp had insisted that Ludger's favorite possessions be buried along with the owl. His toys, his canvas sheet, the scrap of cloth that he'd torn off Mourinho’s lime green tank top and used as a sort of blanket. All went alongside the carved wooden box that held the owl's now-lifeless body.
"Er war ein Totem für unsere Sache. Ein Inbegriff von Loyalität, Standhaftigkeit, Ehre und ewiger Liebe." Klopp had also insisted on giving the eulogy in German since he'd found Ludger in the Black Forest. He looked stoic from the outside, but the facade was a house of cards. One look showed he was struggling to keep his emotions in check.
"Er verband den Kampf und die Tapferkeit eines Kriegers mit der Komik und dem Schalk eines Entertainers. In einer Welt voller Worte sorgte er für etwas ebenso Wertvolles, wenn nicht noch Wertvolleres: wortlose Kameradschaft."
Gently, Klopp laid a bouquet of pink and white carnations next to the headstone. He bowed his head in silence, and the others followed suit. No words were spoken, but one by one the Liverpudlians linked hands with each other until they formed a circle around the gravestone. After a few moments of silence, the group broke apart and slowly began to disperse. Klopp, the last to leave the graveyard, placed a single brown feather on the headstone.
"I hope they have music in heaven, Ludi.”
*
Later that same day, Nunez, Bajcetic, and Elliott trooped up the stairs to the second floor, where Klopp’s office was located. In his arms, Nunez held a cardboard box with multiple holes poked in it.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Bajcetic questioned for the ninth time. He’d been skeptical of their plan throughout the whole process of going to the nearby woods and searching the trees. “I mean, owls are totally different compared to what we’re giving him. Maybe the boss only likes German owls—”
“Nonsense, Stefan! This is sure to work!” Nunez finished ascending the stairs and handed the box to Elliott. “I mean, who doesn’t like birds? Even Milly likes birds—when they’re quiet!”
The three chuckled and kept on walking. They stopped in front of Klopp’s office door, closed shut.
“ Jefe, you there?”
The three got no verbal response. Just as they were about to leave, the door opened, revealing a weary Klopp. It took him a while to recognize who was in front of the door, but he plastered on a smile once it hit him.
“Theory of evolution, chaos assistant, and baby genius!” Klopp joked, although the humor barely reached his eyes. “Need some more chaos tips? I think I have the 1986 Kowalski’s Ledger of Practical Jokes in the basement, but you’ll have to translate it from German. Get Wataru for help, that edition’s printed in the Southern German dialect—”
“We didn’t come for jokes.” Elliott set the box in front of Klopp, dusting the top with a feather duster. “Open it!”
Klopp raised an eyebrow at the plain, unembellished cardboard box, but opened it anyway. He was greeted by an assault of tiny, melodic chirps.
He lifted a full nest of baby blue tits from the box. “Should I ask where you got these from, or call the police?”
“We got them from the woods here, honest!” Bajcetic picked up a baby bird from the nest, nuzzling it against his cheek. “There’s five of them, so the office won’t be so lonely anymore.”
Despite Bajcetic’s vague statement, Klopp didn’t seem confused. Instead, a wry smile stretched across his face—if it could even be called a smile. “You overheard Pep and I’s conversation on the bus, didn’t you?”
“Well…” Elliott hesitated before nodding along with the other two. “We just wanted to see if you were alright.”
“That’s right,” said Nunez. “ Nosotros no queríamos husmear.”
“I understand. I can’t say I was particularly quiet, either.” Klopp pried a baby bird off the sleeve of his collar, carefully setting it back in its nest. “Look, I love baby animals, especially these little fluff balls. But I don’t know…”
“Don’t know what? How to care for these birds?” Elliott took the nest, setting it on Klopp’s desk. The baby birds hopped out of their nest, taking an interest in the array of multicolored paper clips and the computer keyboard. “Well, they’re only a few days away from growing up. You can keep them out in the yard so they can scavenge like real fledglings, and then—”
“And then they’ll fly away.” Klopp quickly glanced at the desk, jumping when he realized a chick had gotten into his coffee. “Whoa whoa whoa…I don’t think that’s safe for birds. So, where was I?”
“Boss.” Unlike the other two, Nunez had quickly lost his jokey demeanor when he’d seen the closed office door. “You can tell us. We’re family, right? No secrets.”
Klopp nodded, ruffling Bajcetic’s dark curls. “Wise beyond your years, Darwin. It’s just that Ludger was family, too. He was with us for twenty-three years. Zel helped raise him with me, and then Ludger stayed with me when Zel left. He flew away for a couple of years and became semi-feral, but one morning in Woolwich, he came back. I thought he’d be with us for a long time after that, but…it wasn’t meant to be, I guess.”
Elliott and Bajcetic stood frozen in place, unsure what to say next. But Nunez stepped forward, removed two birds from Klopp’s coffee, and took the nest off the desk.
“ Lo siento, jefe, I get it now. You’re not ready for another pet now.” Nunez closed the cardboard box, ensuring the air holes hadn’t collapsed. “We’re sorry for trying to pressure you.”
Nunez and Elliott exchanged a silent glance, before Elliott picked up the box. Bajcetic tried to get a baby bird out of his hair, but the bird was stubborn. They were about to leave with the birds when Klopp took all three of them into his arms.
“No, boys. Thank you for trying.”