Loving Men-Kindness (Pup Stories)

Every act of kindness is a small miracle.

I have disabilities: I wear a full-length leg brace on my right leg; I must use forearm crutches to ambulate; I have scoliosis; I’m a jalopy.

Pup, on the other hand, is a shiny, new Tesla: Sleek, sexy, and a tad nerdy.

But on the county roads of daily life that we frequently travel, Pup has accepted my limitations, and I, his.

Pup kindly watches me struggle with something (and believe me, I struggle with a good many things), then swoops in to help.

For example, last night we went to Target to buy a mixer. Pup told me to wait, that he’d retrieve a power cart so that I wouldn’t have to exhaust myself walking around the store. His expedition to secure a cart was in vain, however. But that didn’t stop Pup. Oh no (and this is the Rhodesian Ridgeback showing), he stepped up to every department manager and pointed out that a lack of concern on the part of Target staff was a direct violation of the ADA. It was as though I were being taunted by a bunch of bullies, and he jumped in to defend me.

Sigh.

Or, after we’d eaten our first dinner together, Pup watched my feeble attempt at placing my leftovers in a to-go box, then grabbed the plate and the box and deftly transferred the pulled pork, baked potato, and mac and cheese. Finally, he inscribed the top of the container so I’d know what treasure lies within.

Sigh.

Or last night, on the way home from Target, I was struggling with an impossible pound bag of M & M’s. For some ungodly reason, I have never been able to tear open their bags, and when I do, the bloody bag explodes, sending candy everywhere like chocolate shrapnel. But as Pup was driving, he reached into my lap, gently removed the bag from my hands, held it to his mouth, and, while I was screaming “fire in the hole,” easily tore open a corner with his teeth, then tenderly placed the bag back in my hands saying, “here you go, sweets for my sweet.”

Sigh. Sniffle.

Pup is my champion. Though young, he pulls out my chairs, moves obstacles from my paths, slows his walk so we’re side-by-side, reaches into my breast pocket for my billfold, removes espresso that’s older than 90 seconds.

Pup has become my very own super-hero.