I suppose it’s been twenty years since
we visited Andersonville National Historic Site in Georgia. And while our trip
was very memorable, another what some people might think of a mundane event
which preceded our visit is just as memorable to me.
My wife and I were navigating the
highways and byways which lead to that infamous Civil War prison camp, (and I
can tell you it is out in the boondocks) when I saw him. A small, yellow,
non-descript, bedraggled dog walking along the side of the road.
And while many people would have “gone
about their merry way,” I am extraordinarily sensitive to the welfare of
animals, and I simply couldn’t. I immediately pulled over on the shoulder of
the road, opened my driver’s door, walked around the front of the car, and
found myself looking at the dirty creature.
The little pooch walked slowly up to
me, and now I spoke to him.
“What are you doing out here in the
middle of nowhere, boy?”
And then I bent over, and scooped him
up in my arms. I didn’t feel I could leave him out there. Walking back around
to my open door, I got back behind the wheel, and passed the pooch over to my
wife.
“Honey, what are you thinking? We are
hundreds of miles from home. We haven’t been to Andersonville Prison yet. And we
will be staying overnight in a hotel.”
To which I replied,
“I can’t leave him here. I mean, he is
all alone without food or water.”
Pt. 2
It didn’t take a rocket scientist to
assume someone had dumped the poor pooch on the side of the road, like some
people are prone to do. I knew there were dog and cat dump sites in various out
of the way locations in our country. (And I can’t tell you how much that
infuriated me).
Well, at this point we continued on
our journey. We were still six or eight miles from Andersonville. As I pulled
out onto the road again Jean continued to reason with me.
“We simply can’t take this dog with
us. I know you feel sorry for him, but this isn’t going to work. What do you
plan to do with him while we are at Andersonville? What do you plan to do with
him at the hotel?”
I had driven all of a mile when I
“came to my senses.” I had to admit my wife was right. What would I do with the
hapless critter?
It was then that I found myself
pulling off the road again. And now Jean placed the little canine in my arms
again. Opening the door, and stepping out, I walked around the vehicle, and set
the poor creature down in the low grass.
“I’m sorry, fella. Maybe it would have
been kinder if I had never picked you up and given you false hope. I have no
choice. I’ll have to leave you here.”
And leave him there I did.
Of course, as sensitive as I am about
the welfare of the homeless, wandering animals of the world, I tried to
rationalize my decision.
“It’s not like I was the person who
dumped the little guy. He had already been dumped. I’m just returning him to
the same situation in which I found him.”
(and)
“What else am I supposed to do with
him.”
(and)
“If we were driving straight home, we
could rescue him. But we are hundreds of miles and an overnight stay away from
home.”
(and)
“At least maybe we got him closer to
his destination and civilization.”
And with that, I got back in the car
and left him standing there wondering what just happened.
Afterward
I have often wondered what became of
the precious little pooch which I rescued on the side of a Georgia road; only
to leave him minutes later in the same condition in which I found him. I don’t
know how animals think, and feel, but I presume the poor little critter
experienced significant hope and joy when I took him up in my arms, I placed
him in my wife’s lap, and we continued our journey down the highway; only to
leave him minutes later in the same sorry situation.
I suppose I console myself since I
have saved twice as many animals, as I have left stranded by the road. You see,
in my hour long early morning bike rides, I have rescued a homeless dog and cat,
have brought them both home with me, and farmed each of them out to good homes.
It has been years since the foregoing
incident occurred, and the hapless creature has long since gone on to his
reward. Yet, I can only hope the little guy found a good home and lived out a
long and happy life.
by William McDonald, PhD. Copyright pending
No comments:
Post a Comment