For my Valentine

Once upon a time,not so very long ago, in 1981 or1982, Steve and I lived in Portland while I was going to graduate school. We were living in NE Portland near the Lloyd Center in a little apartment with these wonderful neighbors living in the same building. There was Escobar, who was from Peru and made us lovely pastries. His wife, Jan. Then there was a young woman who lived downstairs, who's name I can't recall right now, but I do remember her cat's name, Loretta. That's kinda nutty, I know. Anyway, in the house right next door there lived a woman, who was almost for sure a crackhead. Which is okay as far as that goes. But she had a big Malamute Husky named Chance who she kept tied up on a short leash in the front yard all the time and I do mean all the time. He was kind of an unpredictable dog. Like one minute he might bark like crazy at us and run to the end of his leash and another time he might just walk over to the edge of the driveway and be sort of friendly. We would talk to him then, but otherwise we would usually give him a pretty wide berth.

In the meantime, there were bikers and kinda scary looking people coming and going from this house with Chance standing watch at all times. Well, one day I was standing in our living room and I hear this growling sound. I stepped out onto our little porch to check out what might be happening. I looked over and here is Chance with his jaws clamped on to a little child's head, shaking the child like a rag doll. Well I let out a scream and Steve came running. He took one look and raced over to the scene, while I continued to scream like a crazy woman. First he yelled at the dog and then quickly jumped behind the dog and yanked at his collar until Chance released the child. He held the dog above the child and either me or someone else was able to get to the little boy and get him out of there. His little head was bleeding and the little guy was panicked and crying. Chance did not do anything. He just let Steve lead him away. Steve said he thought it was like he knew he had done something very wrong.

We later learned that the child, who was about 4-5 years old, had to have multiple stitches in his little scalp. There is no question that Chance would have killed that baby if Steve had not been there to pull him away. We later appeared in court, in a case brought by the boy's parents,  and Steve testified to that fact. The judge was all ready to dismiss the case, but was shown a picture of the injuries to the little guy. He took one look and ordered the dog destroyed. I have always held that Chance should have been given to some rancher out somewhere and the woman who kept him so cruelly should have been destroyed. That would have been way more just. But, no one consulted with me on the matter.

Steve's actions that day represent who he is in his deepest self. I suppose you could say that anyone would do the same given the same circumstances. I honestly don't know if I could have. Maybe I would have beaten the dog on the head with a shovel or something. I really don't know. But there was no time to think, just time to act. And Steve did. Yesterday he told me he was riding his bike and passed a dog and it suddenly all came rushing back, the fear and panic. That happens every now and then. That guy who saved that child, who is probably around 38 years old today, that guy, my husband, that is who he was then and who he is today. I am ever grateful.