The Kindness of Others

About a month ago I picked up a dog-park acquaintance from the ER after she was accidentally taken out by some charging, playing dogs who were focused on the fun they were having and not where they were going. She wanted to pay me back—after all, we did not know each other well. But I could not even contemplate accepting her offer as it was hardly any trouble for me, and as I had been helped several times in my life by near or complete strangers, and suspected that I will likely need to count on such kindnesses again. She insisted on paying me back; I insisted that she pay it forward.

I believe in Karma. No—I do not believe in the Karma of Buddhists that results in being reincarnated into a higher or lower form of life. But the idea that what goes around comes around has at times been the only thought that has kept me from climbing the roof of a post office with a semi-automatic weapon. And seeing truly good people ultimately rewarded—even if years later, and even if only with their own sense of joy and inner peace—has kept me hopeful and optimistic in a world (and a city) that often seems determined to bring on its own ruin. I believe in Karma in the sense that (to repeat yet another cliché), you reap what you sew.

Nurse Milo providing care to
Bailey upon her return from the vet hospital.

This morning Bailey and I did some reaping—thankfully, not of the grim kind, although it at first seemed as that might be the case. Today, Bailey went into a full-on tonic-clonic seizure. From yapping with others at the dog park at one moment; to the shout that I knew would someday come, “Is Bailey OK;” to seeing my dog convulsing violently on the ground in the next moment. I shouted for someone to hail a cab for me—I had planned for this moment for nearly a year, and had the reserved cash folded in the side of my wallet where it had been waiting for just this event. But no one hailed a cab. Instead an acquaintance—a near stranger whose name I did not even know (despite being fully aware of her dog’s name, like most dog-park regulars)—insisted on driving me to the vet hospital across town. And I reaped another sewn seed when a second acquaintance insisted on carrying all 70-pounds of Bailey, still convulsing, while I executed the well-rehearsed checks for internal bleeding and/or heart failure, and kept Bailey’s airway clear from both her tongue and an abundance of frothy liquid that she was producing. And another when the urgent care techs, alerted by my call into the vet hospital, met us outside with a stretcher to rush Bailey in without wasting any time. And another seed reaped when the urgent-care physician drew just the right balance of listening, planning and immediately attending to a still emergent situation. And even more reaping when complete strangers in the waiting room, having witnessed our rushed entrance and obviously noting my distress, came to chat and provide some measure of comfort.

My Jewish friends would say that Bailey’s recovery today and her long survival with cancer is a nes, or miracle. My Christian friends will note that she and I have been blessed. Or maybe it is just that people really are good, when given the opportunity. For me, I feel no need to speculate on the why’s--I prefer to just embrace the wonder or it all--of all the events of today, of the past year and of the last 13 years. I choose to see this as yet more returns on my paying-it-forward in the past, and reinforcement to continue my resolve to pay-it-forward in the future. But, most of all, I like to see the wonder of today and the past year as all of the thousands and thousands of moments of joy that Bailey has spread throughout her life, coming back to her when she most needs them.

Tomorrow I may write about how scared I was this morning. Tomorrow I may write about how my heart is just now starting to slow a bit. Tomorrow I may contemplate whether this is the start of the end (or, more accurately in Bailey’s case, yet another start to another end). Tomorrow I may look at and share my fears and concerns. But today I choose to focus on the ever-continuing wonders of my amazing dog, and the wonder-filled events provided by the kindness of others.

Good girl, Bailey… and very, very well done, humans.