Not to be confused with W. Bruce Cameron’s book and subsequent movie, I am a man, a dog-man, living with purpose. Sometimes that purpose is to come to the aid of one’s neighbors and friends. A neighbor’s house fire yesterday afternoon fortunately resulted in no loss of life. It was an opportunity for our little neighborhood to come together while the First Responders saved the home. However, it was their neighbor next-door, dog-man and personal friend I have known for twenty years, who was injured attempting to calm a terrified dog. I learned this from a spur-of-the-moment dinnertime call to Mike, whom I expected was already helping the family next door. He was dealing with a dog-bite. Though he might have been self-medicating with whiskey while they were mopping up the garage fire, it seems paramedics only gave him a bandage.
In a home where my wife and son are nurses, that revelation spurred us to go see him. With bandages and peroxide, Sheri and I made a house call. As he is one of those builder-types who patch injuries with sawdust and bourbon, we were greeted warmly. Well, I was verbally abused but my spouse was greeted warmly. He agreed that we could check on him in the morning, and to accept the aid and direction of a nurse at that time if only to make my life easier. Looking at his injured hand at 530 this morning, he resigned to heed the Nurse. Or I would later abuse “Lefty” when his hand seized up.
It’s what heroes (or dog-men) do.
It's a Dog's Life 