his lady

As a veterinarian, I get to see the best and the worst in people based on their interactions with animals. It’s part of the job. I will have some of those stories seared into my mind forever, but there are other times when I stumbled upon a situation just doing life. Ironically, it is those unexpected moments that boost my faith in humanity the most.

This was the case last fall when I decided one day to clear some of the mental detritus from my head. We had been bombarded with an early fall heatwave after a long summer of COVID19 lockdown. My bulldog Emmi and I have about equal tolerance for unanticipated excessive heat, so we took off to the coast. We were on the road less than two minutes when I noticed a lady on the sidewalk struggling to carry two five-gallon buckets full of liquid. The buckets were cumbersome, their heavy contents sloshing overboard in unison with each step taken. I didn’t recognize her at first, nor the large black and white dog trailing her.  She crossed over the imaginary line dividing civilization from the woods and began bathing her dog. That’s when I realized she was one of the resident homeless persons of the community. My heart sank.

I’m ashamed to admit I didn’t stop straight away to ask if there was anything the lady needed. Instead, I entered the freeway sifting through my options. Two thoughts battled inside my head in a way only competing notions can when pressed with making a last-minute decision on the freeway: 

Would my actions make a difference?

AND

You never know till you try.

The latter idea won, but not before a third angle arose that solidified the verdict to turn around and go back:

Am I going to decide whether to help someone based on a desired outcome?

I recalled the countless situations unmet expectations had left me riddled with disappointment. It then occurred to me I was looking at this the wrong way. 

I headed back to the same general vicinity I had seen the two and located the dog. This time he was in the middle of the street, leash hanging from his neck. His lady was missing, but he was staring into the garden of a local attorney’s office where I’d witnessed several other homeless persons filling their water jugs.  It seemed that somehow it got out that this was the place they could get water — without judgment or question. It also seemed that some people set out to become attorneys to do good in the world, and some, albeit rare, actually do. [My belief was corroborated once I noticed that said attorney has a big orange tabby (cat) named Atticus.]

The lady was in fact filling her buckets in the garden, so I led her sweet dog out of the street and waited for her to finish. The exact words that followed escape me, but they were something along the lines of, “I noticed you carrying the water to the woods…. Would you like some supplies? Is there anything in particular you need…??”  Without hesitation, her face shifted through several emotions: shock, fear, shame, pride, and a sort of bashfulness. I would have preferred that she told me to F off than for her to feel shame, and I wish I’d had the words to temper it, but I didn’t. That said, the shame may have been my projection.

In the end, she politely declined my offer and left. I couldn’t shake the feeling that her response was the same response a lot of women have- saying no thank you when they deep down want to accept. The alternative was that she meant what she said. Either way, I was willing to risk an actual F- off, so I raced home and gathered supplies, but when I returned, she was gone. I drove around town for the better part of an hour, but saw no sign of the dog or his lady. She probably continued her day and forgot our interaction ever occurred, but I didn’t. 

I could kick myself for not acting sooner. It may have changed nothing, but I will never know. What I do know is that no matter how gut-wrenching the situation first seemed, it left me with more hope than I’d felt in some time. Here was a woman with no home and very few tangible possessions walking miles in the heat while carrying a massive load JUST so she could give her sweet baby some relief. THAT.IS.LOVE. What I also know is that he will love her beyond measure to his dying day no matter what. THAT is a dog.