When dad first became involved with Special Olympics, he thought he had a pretty good idea who “the least of these” was referring to. But as his exposure began grow, he began to consider: who REALLY is the least of these? Someone who is doing the very best they can with the hand they have been dealt, or someone who helps a bit now and then? And where did he gain the moral high ground where he could determine least or greatest status in the first place?
Since my time in the crate, dad has always wondered how I would perform as a therapy dog, an idea that quickly evaporated when I began to exhibit my more rambunctious characteristics. My CHARK! alone could peel the paint off of the walls of any cancer ward, and can you imagine the devastation of tubes and hoses I would leave in my wake as I cavorted from patient to patient? Sure, I could be trained, but what’s the fun in that? I am what I am, full of piss and vinegar and refusing to be watered down.
So it looked like my contribution to society would be limited to my drivelings on the Web when the miraculous happened: dad and I were at the top of tbe Capulin Volcano in New Mexico when we encountered a van load of special people. Like us, they were on a little outing, and also like us, probably seemed a little different compared to what polite society considers “normal” and “proper”.
We fit right in.
They seemed to radiate a joy that many can only attempt to emulate through the use of pharmaceuticals, and we had a huge time, an improbable meeting at an improbable place, the rim of an extinct volcano on the edge of the New Mexican desert.
Although Raton isn’t officially on the unofficial Charlie Bravo itinerary, who knows? We might just have to stop in and say “howdy!”
As hard to believe as it may be, stranger things have been known to happen on the road when traveling with the inmates…
It’s always a party!