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In
my teens, we lived in Carmichael, California. There, I
attended high school on the banks of the American River. Dad
had a sweet and frisky black Labrador retriever named Charity that
didn't like to be confined. Once, we visited the San Diego
Zoo Safari Park where they had day kennels. My dad told them
about the dog's escapism and they told him "sir, we keep lions
here". He went back to the camper to get some things and
guess who was sitting beside the truck waiting for him? The
local elementary school wearied of the dog joining the children
for recess so dad had to start keeping him in a cage (10'x10'x10'
or so) which worked after spying out the dog's escape route
through the roof and subsequently wire wrapping the edges.
Before the cage, I was down by the river on a warm day when I
heard a commotion out on the water. A 6-man raft towing
beers in the ice cold water came into view. One of the
rafters, while hauling in the Buds, exclaimed "that dog is going
for the beer!" And another advised "it's Charity - go on and
give her one." They tossed a can out to her which she gently
retrieved. I walked to the water's edge, looked up stream,
and watched as Charity expertly opened the can and lapped up the
beer. She then headed back up river through the brush.
To this day, I don't know who was in that raft or how she got
home...but I'll always remember that when it came to free cheer,
Charity was reserved...for just one loving dog. |
