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Monday, Jun. 30, 2003 / 10:59 a.m. ~I Can�t Save the World~ It happened again. And again, I didn�t know what to do, but I knew what not to do. A lost animal at my doorstep. It reminded me of the time I saw the pigeon, freshly hit by a car, sitting in the street, one wing flapping in desperation, what would I do? Put it out of its misery? Could I kill it? How late would I be for work? Are my priorities so skewed that I value getting to work on time more than assisting a living being in pain and suffering? The cat I took in, put on my porch, in my midtown apartment, and it was tiled, there was nothing to destroy, and I put out a litter box, I considered adopting him, but I knew he was someone�s beloved, and I took him to the Humane Society, I knew they�d find him there. But the Humane Society killed him, and I can�t risk that again. This time it�s a dog. A golden tan mutt with no tail and a wiggly body that moves with every rise in my voice�s pitch. �Well who are youuuuu?!�, wag, wag, wag. What to do? If I leave now, I�m right on time. Can I be late? I phoned my Manager (M), �Hi, it�s me, I found this dog, right outside my door, I�m giving him some water and food, but what do I do?�, �I don�t know, call the Shelter, they�ll come get him�, �They�ll put him to sleep, I can�t do that, he belongs to someone, he�s just lost, maybe I�ll put him on my porch, give him some food, I don�t know, but I�m going to be late, I�m sorry�. I went back out and the dog was sitting on the doormat of the apartment across from mine, so I rang their bell, thinking they do not have a dog, but the dog seems to think he lives there, so ring, ring, knock, knock, no answer. And with every knock and ring, wag, wag, wag, whole body wags. �This is my house, yeah, this is it! I live HERE, I do!� No, you are so lost. Just one of those silly chain collars, no tag, not a rabies vaccination tag, nothing. Skinny little thing, puppy like, young, wag, wag, stub of a tail, wag, wag, searching big eyes of someone who is lost. What to do? I gave him the water, left it there, and I went down to my car. (he�ll find his home, surely, or the owner will find him, and he may be a she, but I didn�t get that close � I can�t put him on my porch, he�ll eat the chair, he�ll pee, he�ll shit on the carpet, he might have fleas, he has some dark spots on his coat, could be sores, or mange, no, I can�t bring him in, if one flea drops on the carpet and that one flea is a pregnant female, Norm and Glad will have fleas again, and it�s been years, no, can�t do it) �Go on!�, gallop, wag, gallop, run, gallop, wag, �Play with me! Help me find my house!�, nope, got to get to work, get out of my way. And here I am. I feel horrible. What do you do? I think maybe if you have dogs, you grab one of your leashes and put it on the dog, you take a Polaroid and post it on a flyer and plaster it around the mailboxes, FOUND DOG! Or you bring him inside, give him a bowl of food. You appoint yourself foster parent, until the owner comes looking, then you chastise and teach a lesson, �Put an ID tag on this dog, this is a good dog, treat him right or else, you scum!� I�ll be thinking about him all morning, until I go home at lunch, and if he�s nowhere to be seen, I�ll feel bad, I�ll think he went to the street and got hit by a car, or worse. Is there worse? And if he�s there? Then what? Bring him on the porch, risk flea infestation? What? What? What? I want to save the animals, all of them, but I don�t want to think they�re any different from the homeless men who stand on the Interstate exit ramps begging for handouts, I don�t bring them home either. I can�t save the world. I adopted N and G, that�s all I could do, I can�t overextend myself, I earn a meager wage, I can�t afford another animal, I can�t afford vet bills, or destroyed furniture. Or taxed nerves. But my heart has always gone out to animals, and children, and the elderly. I feel a kinship with the defenseless. The fairly helpless. The ones who need others to care for them. I want to sit and listen to the old man who�s lost everyone near to him, and stop the crying of the little girl who lost her mother in the Wal Mart. And I want to take in the puppy with the waggly body, let him sleep in bed with Norm and Glad and me, but I can�t. I just can�t. I can�t save everyone, I can only try to save myself. Cost of the War in Iraq
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