It’s easy enough to write a title about being a hero, but can “all” of us really be “heroes?” Absolutely! In many ways, in all shapes and sizes, and to more than one person at the same time! To illustrate, let me share a story from only an hour ago.
I like to think of this recent bout of being an accidental "hero" as resembling a Dick Tracy-type old-school detective—gruff on the outside, a man of few words, but a soft heart. But I'm getting ahead of myself…
While driving down a fairly busy street just minutes from my home, I spotted a dog dangerously close to the road and looking ready to cross! I pulled over, hit my hazard lights and got out of the car, while asking a gentleman walking his dog nearby if he knew the wandering dog? He replied, "No, but I notice it has tags." I nodded and walked toward the dog, whose name I would soon learn was "Baloo."
At that moment, a boy, maybe ten years old, rode up on his bike, "That's not my dog, sir." I responded, "Ok, do you want to help me catch him?" A quick nod of his head as he threw his bike to the ground let me know I had found a sidekick. Did I need a child's help to catch a frosty-faced senior-citizen chocolate lab? Probably not, but sometimes we can be heroes by just giving others the satisfaction of helping, whether we need it or even want it, and also when the universe offers a sidekick, I have learned to say yes.
We started by surrounding the dog, making soothing clucking sounds and repeating "good boy," and easily got hold of Baloo by his collar. The first number on his tags went to voicemail, and as the boy read out the second number for me, I went to my car to see if I had a spare leash, settling for a belt. When the second number went to voicemail I said, "I'll take him with me, text the owners and keep him until they get back to me." My young partner reminded me that if the dog was in my house and barked, he might need to go outside to pee. I resisted the snarky response, "Thanks for the newsflash, kid," and knowing how much kids don’t like to be called "kid," instead offered a more generous, "I’ll keep that in mind."
Not two minutes later, I received a text response with Baloo’s address. After a three minute drive, I’m greeted by a relieved dog parent. She explained that Baloo had recently learned to jump the chain-link fence portion of their backyard and that her husband had just obtained materials and had plans the very next day to install a 6-foot fence.
As I closed the back door of my car where my canine passenger had just been, who should pull up on his bike, but my partner from earlier. As he watched the dog disappear into the house, he pumped his fist, and I heard him say, "We did it!" He was right. Baloo was back where he belonged. As Baloo’s door closed the boy's attention turned in my direction and I reiterated his positive sentiment, saying, "We sure did, didn't we!" In return, he gave me a boyish grin.
At this point, I couldn’t resist doing something that both adolescents and adults enjoy: calling a kid “a kid.” So I leaned into my previously mentioned detective persona and asked, "Hey, kid, what's your name?" He answered, "Sam." "I'm Robin," I said. "Nice to meet you." He smiled again and replied, "Nice to meet you too."
As I drove away, with Sam pedaling alongside for as long as he could keep up, it occurred to me that it had been a good day! I probably will never see Baloo or Sam again, but at that moment sharing a wave goodbye, I felt an invisible ripple of kindness and collaboration moving out into the world. I hope the new fence keeps Baloo from danger in the future, but I'm glad he escaped today, because it gave me a chance to help, and to meet Sam, the “hero” of this story.
