LION AND THE LAMB: Good Samaritan rescues stray dog

By Joan Gittings / Chronicle contributor

The "errands list" for this particular December Monday morning was fast losing the look of any normal "to do" list. Its composition had started Sunday night, shortly after the last of the supper dishes had found their way into the dishwasher. There were the pansies that were on sale at Lowe's, the clementines and greens at Kroger, a drop-off of books on CD at Art Circle Library, and finally the FrontLine product at the vet's office to deal with our latest infestation of fleas. Our dog was about to be re-christened

"Old Fleabag"! And, oh yes, my husband Joe called out, "Honey, don't forget the package in the front hall."

With my cellphone tucked compactly in my right front pocket, I closed the front door and was off. The ride east on Route 70 was as charming as ever. The utility workers were near the bank of the Caney Fork, re-cycle was open for business (need to put that one on tomorrow's list), the Red Angus cattle were sauntering up to their feed, and the two churches at the crossing of Pomona Road had their new messages. One read: "Moses was once a basket case!" Cute. Coming up on the airport, I remembered to slow down as the houses and businesses were coming up closer and closer. Sometimes a stray might be tromping to its own drummer. You, no doubt, have seen these beasts searching for their daily bread. It is remarkable how non-plussed these beasts appear.

They are about their task, quite Zen-full. No lists for them.

As I drove further into town, I mused, "Hmm, I wonder how many fleas are on that pooch? Where did he sleep last night? Might it have quenched its thirst along the Caney Fork? Or in a mucky puddle?" (Yes, I must confess, my mind does wonder and wander like this.) No need for a radio to amuse this woman! No need for any Christmas tunes just yet. As I started to check off my tasks, I noticed the day was pulsing with its own rhythm. I was a good hour into this foray when the morning and its rhythm changed. It began with a my gentle swerve into the Best Friends Animal Hospital parking area, you know, for the flea treatment product.

Getting out of my car, I noticed at once a navy blue Volkswagon Beetle pull into the lot across from me. Without a second to waste, a man jumped out of the car and ran quickly to the passenger side of his car. Opening the door, he reached in and gently lifted a furry parcel. How he managed to walk to the door of the animal hospital, get inside, and not drop this bundle, I'll never know. I followed. He had called ahead. They were ready. It was a dog. A stunned dog. The man quivered. "I saw what happened," he said. "It was up 127, near the old general store! I was heading to the golf course. It was a black sedan."

Now, I was putting the scenario together. Here was a contemporary Good Samaritan,

right in my very midst. Yes, this dog might be lucky or even blessed. What I wasn't ready for, was what he said next. His hands, now free of the stunned dog, were shaking. He said: "I saw the car swerve. It swerved to hit the dog. I had to close my eyes for a second. The dog WAS NOT IN THE ROAD! It was on the side of the road, on the embankment. THE DRIVER HIT THE DOG AND THEN DROVE OFF!"

A silence gripped the waiting room. The Good Samaritan, Darcie in the front office, me....we were perched in disbelief. How could anyone do such a thing? The question is still out there. "HOW COULD THEY?"

Dateline, 10 days later. The dog, a Pembroke Welsh Corgie, is alive. It had nothing broken. Suffered shock and some puncture wounds. Not identified as of yet. Staff at "Best Friends" says that it is about to be adopted. A.A.R.F. Inc. (All About Rescue & Fixin Inc.) are involved.

Now, when I head into town for my errands, I think about our dog, its fleas, that dog and its experience. I am thankful for "Kenny" the "Good Samaritan" and the staff at Best Friends Animal Hospital. What does haunt me, however, is the universal question: "HOW COULD THEY?" It matters not what your faith, politics, ethics, the question remains "HOW COULD THEY?" Our societal victims of abuse, torture, murder... throughout the world and in Cumberland County "HOW COULD THEY?"

The black car and driver are still out there on their Holiday Hit Parade.

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