An Act of Kindness at the Vet

It was a total coincidence that today's act of kindness took place in a veterinarian's office during V week.  But I will just consider that perhaps it was meant to be.

I took my dog Misty to see the vet today.  She has some kind of allergy that kicks in every year about this this time. Ragweed maybe? We don't know what it is but when she starts gnawing herself throughout most of the day, it's time for a visit to the doctor.  While she and I were in the waiting room there were two women on the other side of the room holding their cat. One of them was crying and it seemed obvious why they were there.  I hoped that when they were called they did not go to the office on the far end, the one with the couch to make people more comfortable.  My family  has experienced what that room is reserved for. Sadly that was where the women and their cat were ushered.

Shortly after they went in, one of them came out alone and sat back down in the waiting room crying.   At this point she and I were the only people in the room; she on one side and I all the way on the other.  I felt like I should go to her and say or do something.  Actually, I have been in this situation before and wrote about it in my blog The Kindness of Strangers (The Right Thing Without A Thought, May 5, 2010).  When it happened previously, I very much regretted that I did nothing and decided that today would be different.

I walked over to her, taking Misty along with me.  I patted her shoulder and said that I knew that there was nothing I could say or do that would help, but I was sorry. She thanked me as she absentmindedly patted Misty on the head.  We went back to our side of the room and waited to be called for our appointment.

It was a really, really hard thing to do.  Partly because it felt awkward. Also because I worried that I was intruding on an incredibly intimate moment with a complete stranger.  And the biggest fear, I think the one that prevents many people from interacting with folks who are experiencing grief, "What if I say something or do something to make it worse?"   I'll never know for sure what the woman thought or felt about a complete stranger approaching her during her grief.  But I have to hope and believe that she experienced my gesture as it was intended, an act of kindness.