Meet Buddy

 

Meet Buddy.     At least that’s what I call him, because that’s what I tend to call all new dogs that I meet.  I don’t know his real name.  I met Buddy recently when he wandered into a mechanics yard where I was sitting during a brief visit to Cap Haitian, Haiti.  Buddy is obviously part dachshund sporting a bit of a different look than the typical creole dog.  Despite unfriendly treatment by others, he responded to my beckoning andcame to say hello and get a pet and scratch. Buddy was missing a lot of hair, covered in fleas, probably mites which may be contagious to people, and as I slowly realized, he smelled rather badly from secondary skin infections.  Regrettably, I didn’t just happen to have a dose of parasite treatment in my back pocket at that moment.  I gave him what I could, a friendly face and gentle touch. It was after I was visiting with him that the “rational thoughts” came - I don’t have a way to wash my hands.  My clothing will stink to go to lunch.  He is most likely contagious… etc….

    Buddy had gone on his way, and I saw him meet unfortunate rejection on his next human interaction.  I was admittedly thinking double minded thoughts: happy that we had shared some joy with each other, yet wandering how bad I now smelled.  I was convicted of the conflict of my thinking.  I became grateful that this time my heart had determined my actions, butwas left to ponder how often my “wise reasoning” deprives others or myself of joy…