I met Brody after a Saturday long run. It was a sunny day in early Spring. Right after parking my car in my usual spot on my dead-end street, I spotted Brody. A young puppy he was, emerging from the wooded area behind the dead end. He seemed to be absorbed in thoughts, sprightly trotting down the path into the neighborhood. He didn’t even notice me until I called out to get his attention.
“Hey, puppy!” I called out in a voice I would talk to a baby. He paused and looked at me, trying to assess the situation. I stooped down, thinking that would make me less intimidating. I continued my baby voice: “Did you get lost?... Do you need food?... Do you need water?... I can get you some!... Do you want to come with me?” He hesitated. I noticed an unmistakable bruise under his left eye. I then tried to move closer and that proved to be a stupid move. Brody turned around and walked back the way he came from. He wasn’t running – just walking – but he was affirmative in his rejection of my offer. I didn’t chase. That would spook him.
Defeated but worried about his safety, I went home and immediately made a post on the app Nextdoor. That night I could not fall asleep, thinking there was a lost puppy in that wooded area where coyotes can often be heard.
The next afternoon, a neighbor responded to my post and said they were able to lure him in. They posted a picture – light-tanned fur, pointed ears, and a bruise visible under his left eye – surely it was him. They named him Brody, telling me how well he behaved and that they were going to take him to the vet first thing on Monday morning. I told them I felt a connection with Brody, and though I could not keep him, I would like to pay him a visit and chip in for his vet fees. The neighbor sent me a picture of Brody sleeping in his new temporary home. I wept tears with joy looking at the picture, thinking how many kisses I would give him when I met him.
(Brody. Is he dreaming about treats? Or toys? Or someone who would love him and he would trust unconditionally?)
Then the bad news came on Monday night, Michele the neighbor, messaged me that Brody's injuries were too severe, likely from being hit by a car, and that the vet recommended putting him to sleep. They buried him in the backyard. How was that possible? I still think to myself sometimes. He looked so healthy except for that bruise. That was the abrupt end of the story of my Brody. I never got a chance to hug him and tell him that he was loved. I still think of him from time to time. I shed my fair share of tears. One day I will have a dog, I think, I would name him after Brody.
Brody happened at a time when I was going through a profound personal loss. I took great comfort from reading Viktor Frankl’s book “Man’s Search for Meaning” and tried to justify my pain with the meaning behind it. But really, what’s the meaning of pre-conditioned suffering to animals or people who could never get a bigger picture, fathom the purpose of it, and get the best out of the situation?
I cannot imagine being a little puppy, lost or abandoned by the owner, navigating through a neighborhood with confusing traffic, or hiding in the woods during the night with strange sounds and great danger. I could not stand the thought of him being hit by a car and injured but had to hurry to hide from people. If there is nothing to be gained from unnecessary suffering, is there a reason why it happens?
***
I felt compelled to write this story. There isn’t really a point I am trying to convey, but perhaps to confess that I am an indulgingly sentimental person, to the point of self-inflicted suffering from these thoughts. But then, I have no more control over these feelings than Brody had over his situation. I am just an ordinary being randomly endowed with more-than-average empathy genes.
We are all Brodies in some way. Be kind to ourselves and others.
***
When I told a “friend” about Brody, he jokingly noted a repeated theme that I seemed to drive stray animals away. Reflecting on what happened, it is quite true. Maybe it is my overly exuberant personality and my tendency to exert too much effort. But then again, I am only a Brody. I can't help my intensity. Sure enough, it would repeat again.
***
All lives deserve to be loved and gently treated. All wounds will be healed; all lost souls found. There is greater power to be harnessed from our own vulnerability.
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