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You see them along busy freeways and country roads
alike. You pass in a blur, perhaps feeling a stray stab of
curiosity, perhaps not.
I see several roadside memorials in my daily travels,
rarely paying much notice until one near my home caught my
attention. Formed as a cross, I could just make out an inscription
on the lacquered crosspiece. The upright is about three feet tall,
painted a glossy green. Flowers adorn the top.
I had decided to read the inscription the next time I
passed when my wife mentioned she had done just that. “It looks
like it’s for someone’s dog,” she said, and I recall feeling a
little irked. I love dogs, but this monument to a pet seemed an
affront to those mourning the real loss of real loved ones.
I pretty much forgot about it until, for some reason, it
caught my eye again. I stopped to study the lettering:
“In memory to my buddy, my best friend, my loyal
companion, killed on this spot. I’m sorry, Teo. I let you down
right along with so many other drug infested people. I miss you.
Goodbye, pal.”
Reading the epitaph only raised more questions. Was Teo
a dog, as my wife thought? Surely I would have heard of the death
of a person so near my home. How did Teo’s friend, who I’ll call
“Friend,” let Teo down? Does “other drug infested people” mean
Friend is a drug user?
I’m going to risk a few assumptions. I think Friend
hasn’t just lost a pet. At a time in his life marked by despair,
Teo might have been a reminder of something else, something better.
Of a time when happiness was as simple as a romp with his dog.
I have no real qualifications to counsel anyone and I’m
not going to make a habit of addressing this column to one person.
But on the chance you’re reading this, Friend, consider a few
thoughts.
Pets can be wonderful companions. They don’t judge,
they don’t hold grudges, and they don’t expect much. Dogs are
particularly eager to please, making it easy to abuse their trust
even if you don’t mean to. Maybe that’s your offense, Friend. Or
maybe you’ve disappointed too many others and been let down too
often yourself to remember that you can choose any other way.
We’ve all had events overwhelm us, let others define us,
or believed things couldn’t change. We rarely see it coming,
whether it’s a drug habit, the wrong circle of acquaintances, a
broken relationship, trouble on the job, or any of a thousand other
trials. It creeps up an inch at a time, and when we finally realize
what’s happened it seems like it came all at once.
The good news is that if you got yourself in you can get
yourself out. Not that you won’t need help, but “other drug
infested people” aren’t the answer. You may think they’re your
friends, and perhaps they are in some sense. But they’re also a
part of the problem.
If you have family or friends that can help, call them.
Maybe the bridges aren’t as burned as you think. Or look in the
Yellow Pages under “Drug Abuse” or “Social Service Organizations.”
Many churches offer counseling and assistance; I turn to God and
recommend it. Still, the point is that there is plenty of help
available at little or no cost.
I think you’ve lost more than your dog or I wouldn’t
have taken time to write this. But unlike most who raise roadside
memorials, your monument is to something you can get back. The
others would do anything for the chance you have. Don’t squander
it.
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