If They Were Dogs

“Capitalism is a wonderful cauldron of possibility in which freedom and innovation motivate most to achieve a certain level of personal success. The rewards for succeeding in a free society can be great and that possibility inspires most to work hard toward their chosen goals. However, in every scenario in which greatness can be achieved, the possibility of failure looms. There are always going to be a certain faction of people within a system of freedom who will fall dramatically short of great things and inevitably descend to the bottom of society.”

A few years ago, I was driving down the Great Highway in San Francisco when I saw a man standing in front of his car which was blocking the right lane. As I inched past, I could see that the man was obviously in distress. He was rubbing his head as he stared at the ground. I looked to see what was holding his attention and that was when I saw the quivering little dog next to the curb. I pulled over to see if there was anything that I could do to help. The man kept muttering about the poor dog and I bent over to see if there was any noticeable trauma. The little dog had some blood coming from his nose and was shaking violently but there were no other signs of external damage. I stood there for moment and decided to act. I went to my car and got a box and some towels from the trunk. I went back to the dog and picked him up and softly laid him on the cushioning towels. I put him the front seat with me and drove to the emergency pet hospital where I had once taken my own dog. I thought that surely they would help.

When I arrived at the hospital the little dog was no longer shaking but still seemed to be in bad shape. I carried the box into the waiting area and told the attendant at the front desk the story of the dog and asked for help. He informed me that he could not look at the dog until I gave him my credit card to pay for whatever services were needed. His declaration of the hospital policy concerning emergency care confused me at first. I thought that all veterinary businesses were born out of a love for animals and that a procedure for an injured lost animal would be universally in place in all of them. I was shocked upon learning that if I would not pay for services that they would reject the little dog. I went back and forth with the attendant until he finally produced the telephone number of the SPCA where I could take the dog. He handed me the number and out the door I went with the box of full of injured dog in hand.

I called the number of the SPCA and they told me to bring the wounded dog to them. When I arrived and they immediately took him into the back to give him a physical examination. I waited to hear the results and after a short time they came out to give me the prognosis. The little guy had no structural damage and was beginning to become more alert. He was probably just in shock and they thought he would be ok. They also informed me that the dog was obviously well cared for as he had a locator chip and his teeth had recently been cleaned. They were sure they would be contacted and that some distraught dog owner would be receiving a miracle message in the near future. I left the office proud of my good deed but dismayed by the outcome of my first emergency stop. How could you be in the business of caring for animals and then just turn your back on an animal in distress because of a lack of financial backing? Was it the dog’s fault that it had been injured and was rendered helpless by the side of the road? If a private citizen does not have the financial ability to fund the care for a random injured animal should they just leave them to suffer?

I was driving the other day and I had to stop at a couple of stop lights right before entering the freeway. At the first light there was a homeless woman, emaciated and dirty, holding a sign that read, “Can you please spare some change for food”. I stared straight ahead. The light changed to green and I hurried along. At the next light I was again confronted by another homeless person, his sign read “Homeless vet please help”. Again, I just looked at the light hoping for it to change and when it did, I drove off. As I drove away, I was filled with two emotions. At first, I was embarrassed that I did not do anything to help either of the two. Then I became angry at the state of things in our self-anointed “Great Country”. How can we allow our less fortunate fellow citizens to live like they do?

There are those who have succeeded in life but fail to recognize the elements of their achievements. There is no doubt that in most cases financial rewards and societal standing are products of hard work and ingenuity. But in almost every story of rise and superior economic position, there are very clear extrinsic factors which enabled those journeys to the places of comfort. Most who succeed in life at some point received support and/or were the recipient of good fortune. But it seems that many who have achieved prosperity want to discount some of the elements of their ascension. In their minds their position in society was made possible by an economic and social structure which guarantees success to the diligent; their standing in society is therefore guaranteed by the maintenance of status quo. The integration of comprehensive social programs to help those who have failed to rise is an attack on their financial prosperity and capitalism in general.  Societal help of the less fortunate therefore threatens their current level of existence. This ego-centric view of the world allows them to justify their callus opinions and actions concerning those who have failed to grasp the brass ring.    

It is inhumane and morally vacant to support the ridiculous assertions that the majority of those who find themselves living on the street are all just lazy victims of self-inflicted addictions or just hiding behind some acronym of the latest discovered mental illness. Those we drive past are someone’s mother, daughter, or sister standing by the side of the road. Those we walk by are someone’s father, son, or brother with a sign asking for help. They are Americans who are conveniently forgotten by a country enamored by the fortunes of the successful and blind to the inevitability of a marginalized constituency of the unfortunates. 

On an almost daily basis, I encounter an individual who has fallen on desperate times and I feel helpless. What should I do? Should I roll down the window and thank the homeless veteran for their military service? Should I tell the poor woman begging for change to buck up and get a job? Should I gaze in conjured confusion at the elderly man talking to the telephone pole? Should I rant about the opportunities that exist in our free capitalistic society? Should I shrug my shoulders, distance myself from responsibility and hide behind the excuses that these poor people have either chosen their current addiction or are just freeloaders faking illness?  

The other day I passed group of homeless people encamped next to the road. Once again I was forced to confront my sense of impotence to provide meaningful help and the corresponding guilt as I pass them by. As I struggled through my all to familiar emotionally negative reactions to what I saw I randomly recalled my experience of rescuing the little dog and in the flash of that memory it hit me; if they were dogs I would know what to do.