It was a Christmas miracle. I was walking my 18-pound poodle rescue dog, Gus, who is old and can’t hear or see very well. He lost his balance on the sidewalk, and his back leg fell off the walk and into the side of the drainage grate. I pulled up on his harness to lift him up, and he slid right out of the harness and down the grate. I was afraid he was going to walk into the drain.
I called 911, but the connection was breaking up. Suddenly, a man in a UPS uniform asked, “Do you need help?”
I yelled, “My poor dog fell in the drainage hole!” He just lifted up the grate. I was stunned.
He said, “You better hurry up,” so I jumped in, grabbed Gus and climbed back out with him. This was amazing, since I am not young and definitely not spry.
When it was all over, the man just walked away to his car. I yelled, “Wait, what is your name? You saved my dog!”
He said, “Drow.” I kept trying to thank him. Drow was my HERO!
One of the most tragic consequences of the post-pandemic period is the staggering shortage of hash brown potatoes, in shredded form, in our grocery stores today.
How are Americans going to contend with inflation, environmental degradation, an economy in slow recovery, and fascist tendencies from inside our country and across the globe without crisp, delicious hash browns with our eggs, bacon, toast and coffee in the morning?
What other malady could be this debilitating? Have we not suffered enough?
Craig J. Corsini