Kindness and the Yard Dog

In an open yard between buildings, behind a tall fence meant to keep strangers out, he sat. Dad told the story of how the dog who lived outside the building where his office was located in Shelby, Indiana had once been the family pet of the company’s owner. However, he told my brother John and me, children from the neighborhood had teased, taunted, and abused that once beloved pet, until it was now the vicious animal behind the fence.

“Stay back, boys. He bites.”

Have you ever hated someone you didn’t even know? Someone who was only a nameless, faceless individual? I have, and it happened when Dad told us about that dog’s abusers. I hadn’t even been around that many dogs by that age. Grandma Adams’ dog Cokie was probably the only one I had been exposed to much at all. I knew enough though to realized that dogs, on their own, shouldn’t act like this one.

So, with every visit to Dad’s office, and journey past that fenced-in area, my hatred for whoever had done this grew. Because of them, this dog was robbed of its family, and visa-versa. Also because of his abusers, any act of kindness on my part would likely be seen as an act of aggression. So, John and I obeyed our father. We stayed back, giving the poor animal its space.

If you ask me why I put up with our three rescues sleeping in our bed, I would give you all sorts of reasons. Deep down inside, though, there is likely a part of me that was forever affected by the unkindness shown to that yard dog back in Shelby, Indiana. It is likely the part of me that is drawn to rescuing dogs in the first place. I couldn’t show kindness back then, but I can today.

It may seem like an odd thing to write about a hatred from decades ago when considering the spiritual principle of kindness; but as I sat here meditating on it, I realized that it wasn’t really the dog’s antagonists I hated. Rather, it was their actions. I don’t have it in me to hate people; but I do sometimes hate the things people do. Lord knows I hate plenty of the things I’ve done. Particularly things done in my time of active drug addiction.

Last summer, as a group of us was serving the homeless community dinner near downtown Tulsa, there was a fellow there who was most definitely having a bad trip. For whatever reason, the security team that usually was on site had not made it that night, so security was left to those of us with the disposition to bring calm to a rocky situation. This fellow was our rocky situation of the night.

Out of over 300 people, this fellow had decided to try an pick a fight with someone twice his size. I’ve been around enough addicts in my time to know that this fellow was on some really bad dope. Meth that was poorly cooked, and was unleashing the kind of violence commonly associated with that particular drug. It’s the danger of having a thousand different people playing chemist, and adding their own “special sauce” to the recipe.

“Hi. My name’s Kent. Can I give you a hug?” I’d already given away dozens of hugs that night, so when I decided to try and intervene in the situation, it was the best approach I could think of.

To say the fellow was stunned would be an understatement. He cocked his head to the side, trying to figure out what the catch was. When all he saw was my smile, he gave in, “Sure, I’ll take a hug.” We stood in line together until he had his burger and chips. I offered to walk him to a table, but he said he preferred to eat alone in a grassy area by the bridge.

I hate drugs, and I hate drug addiction. I hate what they did to me. I hate the fact that despite knowing their affect on me, they can still sometimes seem appealing. I hate seeing the effect they have on people like my friend down at the bridge, and therefore the impact they have on our society.

Like the cruelty that put that yard dog behind the fence, I am cannot stop the fact that drug addiction is out there. Unlike that little boy standing in front of that fence, being warned to stay back because the dog will bite, I can offer something to the addicts I encounter. I can offer kindness. I can offer a hug to someone acting unloveable.

Despite sensing my mother’s worry as she reads this account, I know that I have been equipped for, and called to this expression of kindness by God. I cannot explain it, but in such moments, I do not fear society’s yard dogs. I know firsthand what a little kindness can do in the life of a drug addict. In my case, it only took a little kindness to encourage me to keep coming back to the Twelve Step meetings here in Tulsa. A little kindness to convince me to work the steps, and to live in accordance with spiritual principles. Sometimes it is all I have to share with someone else, hoping they will…

Have a remarkable day!