ALBERT'S EYES

   I’ve never been one to even ask the question, let alone embrace what many call “faith.” Yet, finding myself running a so-called “church,” immersed in attempting to create an alternative to traditional art and belief systems, the question does come up from time to time. Existential questions are interesting. Being curious, I admit that the G.O.D. or L.G.M. or the W.T.F. occupy a bit of my thought process. And like the famous theologian Martin Buber observed, the closest example of a sacred, reciprocal hierarchy I also find in the eyes of animals.

     I didn’t always feel this way. Since the time I was a kid I’d had pets (dogs mostly) as cats were considered by the family as something lower than pond scum. I “loved” my pets, but never really allowed myself a true connection. When I realized my cat prejudices were misplaced I began feeding and casually looked after a swarm of local, feral felines. I grew to like and appreciate those cats. But it is only recently that I have grown to love and depend on an animal, recognizing in that mutual dependency, what many (even Buber) would call God. Maybe some see this Godhead in their children’s eyes. But, then again, Cheeky will never disappoint.

    Whatever the sound of a corgi dog tumbling under a car is……that’s what I heard. The “thump” was Dara hitting the side of the car with her hand. At first I thought it was Dara being hit. The car stopped. The driver got out, explaining frantically that he never saw the dog. It was not his fault. We knelt next to Albert, as he drooled, panted and shat on my boot. We all feared the worst. 

    Humans are the strangest critters on earth. We gathered around the injured pup, each coming up with often contradictory solutions to the dilemma we found ourselves in— as a community. Water? No water? Lift him? Don’t move him? Call the vet and wait? Take him to the vet right away? Sit down and cry? I’d been in this situation before with Samm’s cat Calliope. After being hit by a car that never stopped, she died in our arms within seconds. What to do? Pray?

    In that moment, confused as we were, a little town came together around Albert. We carefully moved him into a wagon. Steve Vegliante pulled up his jeep and we stuffed the wagon into the back seat; Albert swaddled in towels. Then Steve and Dara took off towards Middletown and the emergency vet. Down, but not out, the opening continued. The drinks helped. 

     Everybody who had witnessed the dog being hit was affected, if not traumatized. We talked of crosswalks, caution signs, speed bumps, etc. Would Albert be OK? In this town, where people are not used to activity after dark, cars tend to speed right through, oblivious to crowds, running dogs or children darting out between parked cars. This is a wake up call for all of us. Two teenagers were killed in Rock Hill earlier this summer by an 85 year old, one-eyed ex-judge with a long history of vehicle accidents. I’d hate to see history repeat itself. The good news is Albert will be fine. His low carriage and good luck avoiding those tires saved his life. Does God exist? I have no idea. Look in Albert’s eyes.