Earlier in the week, I took Moby to the Pet Hospital for a yearly check-up. He had eye surgery there in 2014. They only treat emergencies and special cases - Moby gets his regular care from the place around the corner.
In the waiting area, I sat next to a quiet middle-aged man in a camouflage baseball cap, well-worn cowboy boots and jeans. He was leaning forward, elbows on his knees, hands splayed with his fingertips touching. I could feel his distress in the silence. His vet came out to chat with him, and I overheard their conversation. His dog was recovering (from something) at home and going on therapeutic walks with the man per the doctor's orders. Yesterday, the man came in from the barn and the dog was lying on the kitchen floor in pain. Since then she isn't putting any weight one of her legs. The vet advised to give the dog a week of rest before further treatment, and she would be right back with prescriptions for pain. She exited the waiting area. I said to the man (like an annoying busybody), "Your dog has a bad leg?" He looked at me, with a half-hearted smile, "Which one?" he answered. I was puzzled. "Which leg?" "No," he responded, "Which dog? I have two retrievers. One had surgery last month and re-injured herself at home. The other one is having surgery today on his elbow. I can't believe this is happening all at once." I asked if this was a genetic condition. "No. Just a run of bad luck." Then Moby was called to the back. His exam took 15 minutes.
As I paid Moby's $35 fee, I looked around for the man in the waiting area. He was gone. I asked the receptionist about him. I described the man and his retrievers to the girl at the desk. She knew immediately who I was talking about. I asked if I could donate to the balance on his account. I told her that my New Year's resolution was to periodically benefit the life of a stranger, and today I chose him. She said, "Sure you can donate! He paid his balance this morning, but today's surgery will cost $3,800." I donated. I told the clerk that she could tell the man about the donation if she wanted to, from "an anonymous stranger." It didn't seem like much of a contribution toward a fee that big, but I felt that it was definitely enough to make a difference in the man's spirit and ease his burden. The look on the face of the assistant was priceless. "He has spent a lot of money here this year and it's only February. Thank you so much." I walked to the parking lot smiling to myself and feeling good about anonymously helping a dog-loving stranger.
In today's mail was a card from the Pet Hospital. It was full of messages from the employees there, including "Valerie at reception," gushing their thanks. They told me how much they care about the man and his dogs, what a wonderful choice I had made for my act of kindness, and how inspirational my New Year's resolution is. I had no idea that my decision would impact so many more lives than that of one sad man in cowboy boots.
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