Torn.

I usually post about things that I find on the internet, or my crazy sewing projects, but this morning something happened that I just had to write about. I work downtown, and as I was walking through the alley to go into my office building, I came across a dog. A small-ish grey and black mottled thing, she was just standing in the street, gazing at me. I tried to coax her to me. Her tail was wagging, and she seemed curious. But she wouldn’t come to me. She’d start walking my way, then would think better of it and turn around. But she kept looking back at me. She was panting; it’s in the high 90’s today, and probably over 100 degrees including the heat index.

I ran into the office building and filled up a bowl of water. When I returned, she seemed interested, but she still wouldn’t come near me. I left the bowl on the sidewalk, and, as I walked away, I glanced back and saw that she was eagerly drinking the water.

I am notorious for rescuing stray dogs – ask my husband about the time I rescued a Rottweiler two days before we were supposed to leave for our wedding - so this tears at my heart when I can’t do any more. I needed to get to work; but my heart was telling me to say screw it, somehow get her into my car, and take her to my house where I could at least give her a bath and a meal.

Here’s the terrible part of this story: there was a homeless man sleeping on the sidewalk right across the street. And I felt more inclined to help, and more sympathetic towards, this dog.

What does that say about me, as a human? Does that make me terrible? I’ve seen this homeless man around the city lots of times. My first thought is, if I help him and give him money, he’ll just use it for drugs or alcohol. But I could have at least given him a bottle of water, right?

I feel awful. I ended up not helping either of these living creatures. And here I sit, in my air-conditioned office. What a terrible person I am.