The One Where I Am Awed By Simple Compassion

There are days when the mundane changes your view, days when you see things that were right in front of you for the very first time...days like yesterday....

Yesterday the Spinner and I set off for the vets for his annual shots and checkup. I should have known that something was "off" when I exited my car in the lot, there were several people standing outside with their animals, but my addled brain just blew past it without so much as a second thought. As I exchanged greetings with the standees, I didn't notice anything different and no one said anything other than basic pleasantries. Then I opened the door...

Inside was a man and a woman, the woman held a small dog wrapped in a blanket. She was keening and wailing with a pain that was palpable. He was stoic and rigid in his chair. For many of us, that kind of pain invades our soul. Maybe we've been there, maybe we haven't, but that kind of primal sound touches places inside of us that we'd much rather leave untouched. I wanted to run out the door. I wanted to say something, anything to ease their pain, to somehow make it better, but I couldn't, I didn't want to invade, I didn't want to open my heart for fear of feeling their pain and reminding me of the pains of the past. Instead, I slipped into the opposite side of the divided waiting room. The Spinner settled himself onto my lap.

The couple was ushered into an exam room. I could hear more keening and wailing through the door and then the woman ran outside. Several minutes later, the man followed suit, expressionless, holding the empty leash and collar. My heart hurt for him. As women, we often make the men in our lives responsible for the most umpleasant tasks, and because they love us, they do it without complaint.

The Spinner and I were ushered into another exam room, and the whole vaccination, check-up thing went flawlessly. For a few minutes anyway, the drama unfolding seemed far away...

I've written about the Spinner before. What I haven't talked about is the fact that the Spinner is a one person dog. He's MY dog. He's perfectly pleasant to strangers, and he'd never bite a soul, but he'll never actively seek out another human, at least when I'm around. It's just his way...

While I stood at the counter, waiting for my bill and tags, the Spinner took to spinning in front of the exit. The man entered the room, sat down, put his head in his hands and began to weep silently.

Then a very peculiar thing happened. While I stood there frozen, the Spinner stopped spinning. While searched my brain for the right thing to say, the Spinner walked to the man and sat down in front of him. While I debated whether or not I should call my dog, the Spinner began gently licking the tears from the weeping man. While time stopped for me, the Spinner sat with the man who wept openly while clutching the Spinner with all his might. And I couldn't think of one thing to say... And my dog, the dog who is not so fond of strangers, stayed with that man until his tears subsided...

I don't know how long it lasted. I know that when it was over, the Spinner returned to the exit and began spinning again. I know that I had no words, I know that I was overwhelmed in so many ways. I know that for all our bluster as human beings, for all our intelligence and dominance in this world, for all our words and superiority.... the only thing that I saw in those moments, was the pure compassion shown by an animal. As much as I, and the others in that office recognized the pain, for whatever reason, the only creature that even tried to help was the former foofy dog that I call my friend...and I'm in awe...

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