A friend of mine posted this photo on their Facebook wall. Like most people when they first see it, I was overwhelmed with several emotions. First of all, I felt a swell of compassion for these two. I don’t even know them, but I was immediately concerned with their wellbeing. I wanted them to be warm and fed, and protected. Secondly, I was touched with the apparent love and friendship shared by the two, even though they are not even of the same species. I thought, “They may have nothing, but they have each other, so they have everything.” I don’t know by what circumstance this man and this dog came to be together, living on the streets, but I think it is a reflection of the callousness of our society. Whatever the reason they are homeless, they are an opportunity for us, those who have the necessities of life in abundance, to show kindness and compassion. Remember this the next time you drive by a similar scene in your warm car. Remember that if you were in their shoes, you would want, or even if you would be too ashamed to ‘want,’ you would ‘need’ someone to help you. Our apathy is what makes us truly destitute.
Archive for the 'Sheepdog Stuff' Category
I saw this story on the news this morning, and it really touched me. I’m sure just about everyone by now has heard the story of 12 year-old Dale Ostrander, who was pulled into the Pacific Ocean by a powerful riptide this past Friday. This story would have ended in tragedy, except for one thing… a sheepdog.
She didn’t have a jet ski, and she knew how dangerous going into the riptide would be, but she did it anyway. She went in after him, disregarding her own safety and her father’s pleas for her not to do it. Nicole Kissel, as young as she is, is without a doubt a sheepdog.
I don’t really know much about this brave young lady, but in a way – I know everything about her. I know her type. From her actions I know that she has hero written in her DNA. There were a lot of people on that beach and in the water that day, but only one sprung into action. Being a sheepdog is more of a reflex than it is a decision. If she were to think it through, she probably wouldn’t have injected herself into the situation. After all, there were professional rescuers on the way. She could have sat on her boogie board and watched the tragedy unfold like everyone else. She could have just prayed like the church group on the beach, that everything would be okay, but there was something inside her… something that wouldn’t let her sit on the sidelines. A sheepdog has to save the day. It’s not a decision, it’s a need – like breathing.
I’ve been there before. I know what it feels like. When you hear that muffled scream for help, something happens. It’s like your body starts moving on its own. That’s how it was for me that day in the mountains, when I was relaxing on a rock at a popular swimming hole called ‘The Sinks.’ A boy, no older that 10, had wandered into a dangerous section of white water and jagged rocks near by. Several people have perished in that very spot over the years. I remember it like it was yesterday. His scream sent a chill down my spine. I looked up just in time to see his head disappear under the water, and then something amazing happened. My arms and legs pulled me up off that rock, and in an instant I was in the water, racing towards him. It took me a few seconds to find him, but when I did I tried to pull him out of the water. It was useless. His foot was caught in between two jagged rocks. The force of the water was tremendous, and it took everything I had just to keep his head above it and myself from being swept away. I remember thinking, “Holly shit, now I’m going to die.” Luckily for both of us though, another heeded the call for help. A guy named Randy got there and held the kid up long enough for me to go under and free his foot. No one died that day, and I certainly don’t take credit for it. Like I said before, If I had thought it over; the danger of the white-water, what it would feel like to drown, all my loved ones that I would leave behind – I may not have done it. But I really didn’t have a choice in the matter. The reflex takes over before your mind has a chance to analyze things.
So, Nicole Kissel… well done. Like me, your sheepdog tendencies will probably get you killed one day, but this is what you are. We have to be true to what we are.
Last night I fell asleep on the couch. Denice, being the awesome wife that she is, decided to slip out and walk the dogs so I wouldn’t have to. It was very thoughtful, but I hate it when she does this late at night. Anyway, I was abruptly awakened when she darted in the front door, frantically saying that a car was following her. From a dead sleep, I reflexively sprung to my feet, and in true Ninja fashion, tripped over the ottoman, and almost fell on my face.
She led me up the front lawn and pointed out the car. It was idling next to a house across the street. Just as I was about to walk towards the mystery car, it pulled away, and then I noticed the ‘Papa Johns’ sign on the top. It was a pizza delivery guy. He probably just needed directions, and made the stupid mistake of slowly pulling up to a lone female in the middle of the night, effectively scaring the living day-lights out of her.
This incident turned out to be innocent, but that doesn’t mean that every stalking car out there is a lost pizza jokey. In the U.S., hundreds of people are robbed, kidnapped, raped, and/or murdered every year. If you think that the police can protect you from such things, you are mistaken. There are simply not enough of them. 99% of the time the police show up just in time to clean up the mess, and if they’re lucky – catch and lock up the bad guy. Law enforcement and the justice system is really good at being a deterrent to crime and punishing criminals after the fact, but let’s face it… when someone is trying to drag you into a van, and there’s no police around, no one but you – you had better be ARMED.
I’m a pretty big guy. I used to lift weights like crazy, and I was into the martial arts. But even though I appear ‘formidable,’ in my lifetime I have been robbed three times (once a guy came in my bedroom window while I was sleeping just a few feet away and stole some video games), attacked on the street without provocation about six times, had a gun pulled on me twice, attacked in my home by gang members once (had to stab a guy that time), and was the victim of a botched murder attempt. My point is that this all happened to me; and I’m a nice guy, who lives in a medium-sized city in Tennessee. If it can happen to me, I promise you, it can and probably will happen to you in your lifetime. So, you have a choice to make. Will you be a victim, or will you fight back? Will you let that beast drag you into its van, or will you be the last person that it ever lays its filthy hands on? If it happens to you, you will almost certainly be alone. The wolf always waits till its prey is alone before it makes a move. The only friends that you have will be the ones that you brought with you, and for your sake I hope at least one of their names will be ‘Glock, Colt, Rugar, or Keltec. When the beast comes, these will be the friends that count. These friends will be the difference between being debriefed by a police officer as the undertakers carry away the carcass of the perp that you just put down, or… what’s left of you being picked up out of a ditch on some lonely country road (if you’re lucky enough to ever be found that is).
Denice and I are going to be getting our Concealed Carry permits in the near future. I am going to make sure that she is able to defend herself in the event that she is singled out by the wolf. I can’t be with her all the time, but my good friend Mr. Glock can.