Fifteen years old, blind and deaf, Lucy the Chihuahua tumbled into a tortoise den in a West Valley backyard on Nov. 15. So began an odyssey that ended 90-plus hours later, when an impromptu rescue team pulled Lucy from that hole, using a snare, a camera and some fancy plumbing equipment.
I love a happy ending. But in such cynical times, I feel compelled to ask a question. We’ll get to that, but first let’s congratulate our story’s heroes.
Kudos to Kim Powell, the “Canine Queen” of Samson’s K9 Search & Rescue. The all-volunteer group, based in San Tan Valley, saw a Facebook post from Jason Montijo, the son of Lucy’s owners. Local firefighters and the Arizona Humane Society hadn’t been able to coax Lucy to safety. Kim sped to the scene after some Google Earth sleuthing to pinpoint the location near the Glendale-Peoria border.
There, she was joined by two kind fellows from 100% Plumbing in Glendale.
“I think it was actually a little bit more than nine feet as a drop and almost 30 feet back,” Powell told Arizona’s Family TV. “Excavating would not have been an option in this area. … (It) would not have been worth the risk, especially for such an old and fragile small dog.”
Kim and the plumbers used a sewer drain to guide a camera and rescue snare through the maze. “We did have quite a few attempts initially where (Lucy) kind of almost stepped into the loop on the snare,” Kim told a TV reporter.
After six hours of coaxing, Kim went face-first down the hole again. She caught hold of little Lucy and pulled the dog to safety. The rescuers’ high fives and Mrs. Montijo exclaiming, “Bless you so much, that’s my baby,” would draw tears from even the most cold-eyed soul.
Lucy’s doing well at Blue Pearl Pet Hospital in Peoria, per social media, and folks are already donating to pay for her recovery.
I couldn’t imagine a more joyous ending.
So, what’s my question?
Would we — meaning we Americans — have been so quick to assist had the beating heart in need of saving been a human being, not a pooch? If it had been a cute little blonde girl, sure, or a deaf, blind grandma down that hole, I have no doubt the masses would have moved heaven and (literally) earth.
But say this wasn’t Lucy the dog.
Say this was Luis from Mexico crawling through a tunnel under Arizona’s southern border, only to have its walls come crashing down.
How many among us would have been so selfless when it comes to an illegal immigrant? How many would have tut-tutted, “Well, he knew the risks when he went down there?”
Maybe this question says more about me than it does about the other 350 million Americans. I’m down on our collective soul lately, beyond tired of the endless arguing, the frigid hearts, the instinct to see everything through the warped lens of politics.
I’m not trying to turn Lucy’s plight into a sermon about immigration. I believe we need a controlled border. But I also believe in the power of compassion, the reflex that makes us want to salve pain and save creatures in need.
Maybe it’s just me who thinks we’ve never been colder as a society, at least when it comes to our fellow man. Maybe I’m wrong and a stranger from a strange land trapped in a never-ending ditch would have received an outpouring of support.
Maybe thousands of us would have been like Kim Powell, selflessly face first in the dirt, extending both hands and a warm hug.
Maybe this would have been a story of man’s compassion for man.
But I doubt it.
