The Best People in the World are Animal People (a.k.a. Kindness is Not Weakness)

 

It was a September evening. The sky was, as it had been for most of the day, cloudy; the inevitable rain making a sneaking, gradual approach. The waves were breaking too close to the shore for surfers to see any real excitement. It was, instead, a night suited (ideal, in fact!) for beach walking (or, in my case, reading).  This couple, no doubt, had every intention of a beautiful beach ramble. As others did before them, they came across a gull, squawking, able to lift its head, but otherwise unmoving. Unlike others before them, this couple decided to do something to help.

From down the beach, I watched them -- as they took notice of the bird; as they cautiously approached it, understanding the situation; as they hovered nearby, crouched low and unthreatening, as though to convey to the bird that they were there benevolently; searching their phones -- the both of them simultaneously -- likely Googling local animal rescues and "what to do for a hurt gull"; and finally, making some calls. They remained, with the bird, unwavering, for over an hour. Every so often, the man would rub the back of the woman, soothing, supporting, sharing in their hurt. They did not break from their crouched vigil until the police pulled onto the sand.

For another long length of time -- perhaps another half hour if not longer -- the three of them assessed, discussed, strategized.  The officer retrieved gloves from the boot of his car and gently examined the bird.  He checked its wings, stretching them slowly, then tucking them back in. He stroked it once, too, before stepping away. And they waiting.

The evening grew dark. At one point, the woman ran to the passenger seat of the police car and returned with a flashlight. They inspected the bird again, perhaps confirming it was still breathing. Not longer after, after a near two hour vigil, the couple decided to leave.  They walked somberly up the path towards the boardwalk, heads lowered, voices soft, and a few more back rubs.

The police officer was left with the bird alone.

The evening would end when an animal control officer arrived -- a skinny man whose khaki pants hung low, a slight ballooning on his legs. In his hands he toted a bin and a net at the end of a long pole. With a few words exchanged with the police officer, he moved to the bird, scooped it with ease and placed it -- not lovingly, but not harshly, either -- his efforts were practiced -- in the bin. And he, too, walked up the path off the beach.

The officer returned to his car, where he remained for a bit, perhaps calling it in to dispatch, the situation resolved. As he began to drive away, the woman returned, running to his window. I watched as he lowered the glass and she reached out towards him -- handing him what looked to be a card -- a Thank You for responding, for caring, for seeing the importance of this.

And that evening, I fell in love with them all. These lovely souls came together for another in need. People who see suffering in others -- human or animal -- and are compelled with hurt of their own to help -- are my favorite kind of people. The world, of course, needs more people like this. How often we mock people like this for their softness -- as though kindness is a weakness. And yet, truly, it's the very opposite truth: The people who are so lonely or self-absorbed or swimming in their own egos to FEEL others around them are the ones I pity. 

For too long, it seems, I've put people around me who hold up the assholes as examples of what to strive for; people whose selfishness and blind ambition disconnects them from the people whose whole bodies are deep in the dirt and, often, their own families. Kindness is no weakness. It's people like this couple, and like the police officer who showed no impatience, who dove right in with care and support, that carry this world with strength.

It's time THESE are the people who we admire and strive to be like.  THESE are the people that matter.