Louis Roney: Dogs and other somebodies

When I was a kid of 10 or 12, I had a dog that was my constant companion — my best friend. He waited for me everyday outside the schoolhouse when I was in grammar school, and ran along side of me as I rode my bicycle home. He was smart, and had by nature the instincts to know what to do usually without my telling him.

People have written much about a boy and his dog, and I am a witness to the fact that such friendships are an authentic and lasting experience. I played with my dog in ways that he understood and enjoyed, and our ball playing attracted the attention of passersby. He was almost miraculous in his ability to jump high in the air and catch a ball on the fly, and it had to be all his doing because I didn’t teach him.

He was a beautiful mixed-breed mid-sized dog that we paid $3 for at the pound, and he seemed always grateful that we took him out of that place. I can’t remember his name, strangely enough, but we probably called him “Sweetie” most of the time.

After school my dog and I usually went down to Lake Virginia where he loved to get in, swim around, and cool off. Alligators like to eat dogs, and I was always on the lookout when my dog was in the water. We had learned in school that nature is friendly, but nature is also dangerous and deadly. It amazed me as a boy how neatly people sweeten our concept of nature, whose good side seems to concern us most of the time. The nature that gives us house pets also furnishes us with jungle foes that will catch and eat dogs — and us too — if given the chance.

The death of a pet is a moving ordeal, and ranks somewhere not far behind the loss of a human friend. We lament that animals’ life spans are so short, but our lamentations are all that we can manage — trips to the veterinarian not withstanding — our pets pass away all too soon for us.

• Are we to become caretakers for a world of chaotic folks who for one reason or another cannot find a means to live their lives in our modern world, complete with terrorists? We wonder how the American public views the recent immigration of 10,000 Syrians in to the U.S. (a goal set by the Obama administration). Is our own ability to support such extravagant generosity inevitably going to clash dramatically with our ability to survive and prosper? Incidentally, statistically how many of these immigrants may be terrorists in disguise? We have always been a help to nations in crisis. Are we now to be a prop for nations who cannot cope with reality? Why should we put ourselves in real danger just to be the nice guys to the world? It is possible to make ourselves such generous neighbors that we find ourselves in need — and who, pray tell, will come to the aid of the formidable USA? Should we now be thinking

first: What are OUR needs? And then, what are we able to do for others? Just asking…

• “Where the press is free and every man is able to read, all is safe.” – Thomas Jefferson

Don’t we wish!