As we were going on 254 to 69 we stopped. I had the dog in my lap and the window open and a wasp blew in on my lap. So I smothered it in the pillow and we pulled over on to the side of the road.
I had a boy hop out, clip the dog, and pull her out of the way.
Then I got out with the pillowed wasp and flung it open far away from me. (It was still alive, so that was a good choice.)
Then we were getting back in the car. A guy started yelling at us from his house, set way back from the road, and I hollered back. “We were just throwing a wasp out. We’re going now.”
He got closer, and I heard him say, “Water your dog.” I took the dog’s leash and went toward him.
He was coming as fast as he could, loping across a yard most people would call a field, with his black, gray, and blue spotted dog, whose name was Crackles.
“You want to water your dog?” he asked again when we were closer to each other.
And we did. We had nothing in the car from which the dog could drink. I had poured water into my hand and let her drink from that. But we hadn’t realized how long we’d be on the road. We were hoping to have been in Arkansas by morning on Thursday. So we didn’t even think of bringing a bowl.
The gentleman filled up a pan with water. Serenity drank some of it but mostly she wanted to play with Crackles. R was coming across the yard by that time. He introduced himself.
Then his wife came out. She was carrying a locked tupperware dish. “Here’s water for your puppy. You can take this with you.”
The dogs played for a small bit. We told them we were from Houston. They told us they were putting up in case the hurricane rains and wind hit there. And then it was time for us to go.
They told us to be safe. They told us they’d be praying for us. We thanked them and told them the same thing.
Thank you, God, for folks like that. Keep them safe and bless them for the “cold cup of water in your name.”