We Lost an Original Today

“ ‘Kindness’ covers all of my political beliefs. … We must try to contribute joy to the world. That is true no matter what our problems, our health, our circumstances. We must try. I didn’t always know this and am happy I lived long enough to find it out.”
—Roger Ebert

[Photo from Wings of Desire.]

When Abandonment Is Just the Beginning

Some animal shelters have drop-off areas where people may leave/“surrender” their pets anonymously, thereby transferring responsibility of the animals’ care to the shelter. This practice is not unlike the city ordinances allowing people to drop off babies at fire stations and hospitals. As much as we hate providing for such circumstances, it’s loads better than the alternative: abandonment.

I’ve heard one report after another of animals abandoned here in the Bluegrass: the dogs thrown out of cars, the puppies hidden in a dog-food bag along a road, the pregnant ponies dumped in a field, the animals left in foreclosed homes. You get the picture. Earlier this year, two hikers discovered just how far some people will go to get rid of a pet.

In the White Mountains of New England, on a stretch of wilderness travelled only by experienced purists, the hikers noticed a large box. Before they had enough time to puzzle through how and why it was there, it moved! Cautiously, they peeked inside. Staring back at them was a small, unkempt, sickly, senior dog.

Whoever left him there had taken great pains to position him where he wouldn’t be found, in an area from which he wouldn’t likely escape. But in all the person’s strategizing, s/he apparently didn’t consider how the kindness of a couple of strangers can snowball.

The hikers believed the dog would be bear bait if left on the mountainside. So they agreed to carry him to the nearest town and find a shelter that could help him.

“A single act of kindness throws out roots in all directions, and the roots spring up and make new trees.”
—Amelia Earhart

The shelter staff dubbed the little fellow “Scruffy” and told his story on their Facebook page, where author Tom Ryan saw it. Scruffy needed expensive medical treatment that Ryan knew the shelter could hardly afford. Since he had once benefitted from the kindness of strangers himself—or, rather, his dog had—Ryan spread the word about Scruffy’s predicament on his own Facebook page. From across the country, fans of his book, Following Atticus, quickly covered the costs for the patient. Better yet, a local couple adopted Scruffy.

Then, when a happy ending seemed on the horizon, Scruffy’s health took a dive. Once more, Ryan rallied his readers to the cause and again they came through. What’s more, the vet staff was so impressed by the number of people pulling for Scruffy that they kept their fees to a minimum—a blessing for the young couple who had adopted the forsaken pooch, never expecting the roller-coaster of worry and fear and hope he would also cost them.

Why am I telling you all this?

Because today, Scruffy is healthy and home. His journey from mountaintop abandonment to a loving family is a reminder that sometimes it really does take a village. Sometimes, it takes the kindness of many strangers to change the direction of one small life.

Was it worth it? Heck, yeah! Whenever we act together in kindness, we improve our world—if only by a tiny, furry bit.

[Photo of Davis Path by Tom Pirro; photo of Scruffy by one of his adoptive guardians, Corey Engfer.]

Finding Kindness by Land and by Sea

Did you see yesterday’s news? A fellow has been hitchhiking across the lower 48 in search of material for his upcoming book on kindness. Specifically, on the kindness of strangers. As he made his way across Montana, a stranger in a pick-up truck drove up to him and shot him.

I wonder if that incident will be included in the kindness book. Or maybe the author will encounter enough people behaving badly to write a second book. [My thanks to the Lull reader who e-mailed this story to me. Her subject line: “It may not be kind, but it’s America.”]

In contrast, another Lull reader sent me a 2010 headliner about kindness. It happened a little farther north, off the coast of Alaska.

The strangers were in a large boat instead of a truck, and they were headed to a small town for a leisurely brunch. Their plans shifted as four unidentified creatures in the distance swam ever closer to the boat. The creatures turned out to be four Sitka Black-Tailed Deer, swimming for their lives and clearly needing help. Where had they come from? How long had they been in the frigid waters? Where were they originally trying to go?

Ship captain Tom Satre wasted no time in answering any questions; he immediately rallied his companions—his brother, sister, and daughter—to help the animals. Everyone worked at lifting the deer onto the boat and getting them warm and calm. The operation was touch-and-go for a while, but the humans managed to keep all four deer alive until reaching land, by which time the deer appeared to have recovered their health and were released. [Click through to a full news story for details, or to Tom Satre’s Web site where you may view more photos of the ordeal.]

With the world in economic and environmental turmoil, it’s sometimes hard to see how we can possibly make any difference. For most of us, I think the first step—and maybe the only step—is to act with kindness every day. It’s the simplest, most direct way of improving our world—one encounter at a time, human or nonhuman.

[Photos by Sharon Kelly.]

Reaping the Rewards of Cat-Sitting

Someone in my apartment building left me a note asking if I wouldn’t mind looking after his two cats while he took a vacation. I hardly know this individual, and I’ve never met his cats, but I said Yes without hesitation.

I wrote back asking if he would be agreeable to letting the cats stay in my apartment during his absence. My reasoning was twofold: 1) The girls would get much more attention and near-constant companionship from more than one person, and 2) I wouldn’t have to climb two flights of stairs twice a day to care for them.

His reply was unexpected. He agreed to my request and wrote that he was overwhelmed by my offer. He wasn’t used to such kindness. This was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for him.

WHAT? My halfway self-serving request was the best anyone had ever done for this guy? I couldn’t believe it. What’s wrong with our species?

Yeah, I know the guy is blind, but why are so many people afraid to engage with someone who is a little different?

“Kindness is in our power, even when fondness is not.”
—Samuel Johnson

I was angry and sad at the same time. I started thinking about all the ways I’ve been shown kindness in the last few years:

- the friend who cooked homemade dinners for my husband and I when I was recovering from surgery
- the lawyers who defended me and helped me through the legal system even though they were representing the other party
- the boss who sat in court with me just for moral support
- the friends and family members who called and left messages for me at a time when I didn’t have the reserve to talk to anyone
- the friend who helped man the garage sale of most of my possessions, providing both nutritional and emotional sustenance
- the work colleagues who planned and carried out a most memorable and touching wedding for me

I could go on.
 
I’m grateful to all these people and more. They balanced out the behavior of a number of slimy, greedy, flagitious lowlifes and kept my spirits up during some very trying times. I can’t imagine the outcome had I not received such kindness. I can’t imagine how my neighbor has persevered.

Well, I guess I can, for judging from his notes to me, it’s his two cats who provide him care and community and purpose in Life. They’re everything to him. They’ve become his world.

Still, it takes so little to be kind to others—holding a door open, carrying a grocery bag, sometimes just saying Hello or listening. We don’t have to get involved in a person’s life or problems in order to be kind; we don’t have to become responsible for them or engage with them for the long term. There’s hardly any downside to it, really. It’s just a moment in a lifetime of moments. But to the person we’re being kind to, it could be so much more.

Push a little kindness into the Universe today, won’t you?

[Art by Harry Whittier.]

Doling Out Dolphin Love

This rescue story is all over the Internet, but I’m posting it here anyway. It’s a feel-good random act of interspecies kindness that’s a model for us all. Note how two men immediately rush to the aid of the dolphins, then others follow suit. I want to hug those two guys for their leadership and for acting so quickly.



You can get more details at Treehugger.com. (If you go there, stay to watch the video of the whale and dolphins playing “Slide.”)

Compassion: Yet Another Endangered Species?

I’ve been reading Ian Parker’s “The Story of a Suicide: Two College Roommates, a Webcam, and a Tragedy,” a New Yorker article about the Rutgers freshman who jumped to his death from the George Washington Bridge, leading strangers to jump to conclusions about his motivation. The author includes numerous e-mails and text messages that the players in this drama exchanged, and I was struck again and again by a common theme in their banter: compassion. Or, rather, a lack of it.

I realize these exchanges were private and written in techno-haste by kids who easily fall prey to the rhythm of peer-bashing—us vs. them. But words impart meaning and if used repeatedly, become a kind of truth. Homosexuals weren’t their only target. The kids expressed disdain for violinists, computer illiterates, people of inferior intelligence, people who don’t have Gmail addresses, and, most especially, poor people.

Poor people?

I thought I knew what I was up against in my mission to generate compassion for animals from the general population. But this New Yorker article indicated a societal mindset foreign to me.

As I related my concern to my husband, he found “What, Me Care? Young Are Less Empathetic” by Jamil Zaki. It’s a summary in Scientific American of long-term studies conducted on empathy in humans—how we apply it and how we think about it. In the U.S. college population, empathy has been on the decline in the last decade.

After watching the Super Bowl ads and halftime show this past weekend, I can understand why. It seems as if harshness and snarkiness and loudness are easy to come by in the media; for softness and kindness and quiet, we have to actively search for examples. All too often, most of us take whatever comes to us. I thought this indicated that our emotional world is out of balance with our multimedia world, especially for younger generations. For compassion to gain importance, we simply have to try harder to achieve equilibrium.

Then I read the comments to the Scientific American article. Here’s one that stands out:

“Perhaps low empathy levels could be improved if people were given the time and space to find each other interesting. … If it were somehow necessary for people to depend on the kindness of strangers, they might find reasons to care about them.”

Ah, it all makes sense now. If poor people could just be more interesting, they might rouse compassion from others. Poor people (like exploited animals) vie for our attention in the same media muddle as do displays of glamour, sexuality, affluence, athleticism, and trendiness. Is this a level playing field? How can we make society’s invisible more interesting?

I was about to give up on humans until I read this in Poetry magazine:

“If I can only be horrified by my species, then I will have to kill myself. If I find others recognizable, I guess I will continue. It’s as simple as that.”
—Fanny Howe

I guess it is as simple as that. I must do what I can as I can. I urge you to do the same.

Sidenote
One difference between empathic individuals (children and adults) and those with little compassion: Those who read more fiction have more empathy.

[Pics from top to bottom from Dog Files, Have Dog Blog Will Travel, and Dog Eat Dogma.]

Helping the Downtrodden Fight Back

“Kind looks, kind words, kind acts, and warm handshakes—these are secondary means of grace when men are in trouble and fighting their unseen battles.”
—John Hall

[Art by Matisse.]