A Moral Dilemma

When my neighbor gets called unexpectedly into work, I walk her dog in the mornings.

And so it was, not too long ago, at seven in the morning, I was walking her kooky rescue mutt through the park. We rounded a grove a trees and in the distance I beheld what appeared to be a person on her knees or sitting down, with a blanket draped around her neck like a shawl. The upper half of this person rocked slowly back and forth.

The mutt and I moved closer to investigate.

As I approached, I noticed an empty grocery cart and a small hard shell suitcase resting near the person.

It was Jamie from the Old Crow Book Club, the same Jamie I'd talked to a month ago after she almost died when her tent caught fire. It was during this conversation that she told me her story of becoming addicted to opioids and the resulting homelessness and how she wanted out of her street life.

The mutt and I stopped ten feet away from Jamie. She didn't register our appearance. Her face was contorted into a mess of semi consciousness and hellacious high. She rocked back and forth and her eyes opened and closed. It was then I noticed the suitcase was decorated with characters from Disney's animated films.

I didn't say anything. I doubt Jamie could have responded. I didn't have my phone with me to call the Street Response Team but I probably wouldn't have called anyway. I didn't have my wallet on me to give her any cash, but I probably wouldn't have done so anyway.

What do you do? I knew Jamie. This wasn't like I'd encountered a random passed-out stranger, which happens to me all the time. I knew her story. Was this really it? I felt the extreme press of a moral dilemma right in front of me. This wasn't driving or bicycling by it; it was ten feet away and writhing in real time on a beautiful weekday morning in a city park.

No one else was around.

We walked away and headed for home, roughly 30 minutes away. I talked to the mutt about the dilemma. He's a good listener, much better than a garden variety therapist bloated with jargon.

I stashed the mutt in my neighbor's home, retrieved my phone and wallet, and jumped on my bike. I rode over to where Jamie had been not knowing what to do. I have no training in this sort of thing. I'm always making it up as I go along. Everything I do with members of the Old Crow Book Club is not by the book because there is no such book.

Jamie wasn't there! Same for the grocery cart and suitcase. It seemed impossible that she could have walked away under her own power.

I circled the area. No trace of her.

That brought relief and I felt slightly ashamed of it.

I bicycled over to visit my dad in the assistant living center. I told him about encountering Jamie. We discussed it for half an hour.