Each day during our walk here in Empire, the last leg of our path takes us up the Road in front of our house.
Without fail, I have to pick up a cigarette butt, beer can, or fast food bags that someone has decided to
share with me. One day in frustration, I asked a rhetorical question – why do people insist on doing this?
Jilda made an astute observation when she said, “Some people will not do the right thing.”
Since the Tyson wastewater spill into the Mulberry Fork back in June, I’ve stopped at the river every day. Walking along the water’s edge, I look upriver for signs of fish or other critters in the water. So far, I haven’t seen any. This past week, I did see a blue heron sitting on a log at the mouth of the river, and this was encouraging.
What is heartbreaking is that every time I stop by the Forks, I have to spend time picking up cans, and other litter. This garbage was not left there by some faceless corporation doing business upstream. This was someone who lives here. One of us.
I would be willing to bet that those littering the riverbank were outraged by the Tyson spill, but see no problem with leaving their own garbage on the banks of the river.
I’m not sure what it will take to educate people to do the right thing.
It’s not just litter I’m talking about. Jilda and I live on a dead-end road. Ever since we moved here in 1980, people have dumped their unwanted dogs here.
Through the years, many of the dogs found their way to our house. I’ve written columns in the past about most of them.
One dog that someone dumped looked like a Labrador Retriever. It was a beautiful dog, but it wheezed and coughed constantly. I knew by the sound of the cough that he had heartworms.
We asked around if anyone had lost a dog, but I knew no one would claim this poor creature. Instead of euthanizing their old friend, which would have been the humane thing to do, his former owners dumped him on the road near our house.
He only lived a few months, but his last days were comfortable with plenty to eat and a warm place to sleep. He died in the doghouse in the backyard, and we buried him along with our other pets we’ve lost through the years. Wheezer was one of the most loving dogs we’ve ever cared for. How someone could have tossed him out like a used Dixie cup was beyond my grasp.
Here’s the deal: Doing the right thing is always the best path to choose. Having a dying animal euthanized is hard. I know this for a fact because I’ve done it several times. It’s brutal. But dumping a loving dog on a dead-end road to die alone is even more heartbreaking. Putting a sick animal down is not easy, but it’s the right thing to do.
It’s not always cheap to fix a plant so that it doesn’t pollute a priceless river, but it’s the right thing to do. Putting your garbage in a waste receptacle might make you take a few extra steps, but it’s the right thing to do.
Without fail, I have to pick up a cigarette butt, beer can, or fast food bags that someone has decided to
share with me. One day in frustration, I asked a rhetorical question – why do people insist on doing this?
Jilda made an astute observation when she said, “Some people will not do the right thing.”
Since the Tyson wastewater spill into the Mulberry Fork back in June, I’ve stopped at the river every day. Walking along the water’s edge, I look upriver for signs of fish or other critters in the water. So far, I haven’t seen any. This past week, I did see a blue heron sitting on a log at the mouth of the river, and this was encouraging.
What is heartbreaking is that every time I stop by the Forks, I have to spend time picking up cans, and other litter. This garbage was not left there by some faceless corporation doing business upstream. This was someone who lives here. One of us.
I would be willing to bet that those littering the riverbank were outraged by the Tyson spill, but see no problem with leaving their own garbage on the banks of the river.
I’m not sure what it will take to educate people to do the right thing.
It’s not just litter I’m talking about. Jilda and I live on a dead-end road. Ever since we moved here in 1980, people have dumped their unwanted dogs here.
Through the years, many of the dogs found their way to our house. I’ve written columns in the past about most of them.
One dog that someone dumped looked like a Labrador Retriever. It was a beautiful dog, but it wheezed and coughed constantly. I knew by the sound of the cough that he had heartworms.
We asked around if anyone had lost a dog, but I knew no one would claim this poor creature. Instead of euthanizing their old friend, which would have been the humane thing to do, his former owners dumped him on the road near our house.
He only lived a few months, but his last days were comfortable with plenty to eat and a warm place to sleep. He died in the doghouse in the backyard, and we buried him along with our other pets we’ve lost through the years. Wheezer was one of the most loving dogs we’ve ever cared for. How someone could have tossed him out like a used Dixie cup was beyond my grasp.
Here’s the deal: Doing the right thing is always the best path to choose. Having a dying animal euthanized is hard. I know this for a fact because I’ve done it several times. It’s brutal. But dumping a loving dog on a dead-end road to die alone is even more heartbreaking. Putting a sick animal down is not easy, but it’s the right thing to do.
It’s not always cheap to fix a plant so that it doesn’t pollute a priceless river, but it’s the right thing to do. Putting your garbage in a waste receptacle might make you take a few extra steps, but it’s the right thing to do.
