Football Player Vic Rescues Dog

My friend Vic and I went out for a walk. I'm a 50-year-old white-haired white guy recovering from an infection, and he's a 27-year-old skinny black guy with a shaved head, 6' 4, who used to be a high school football player. I guess maybe we make quite a picture walking down streets of 50-year-old small homes in an old Florida neighborhood.

Suddenly, Vic turned. I saw his startled expression and turned at the same time, to see two dogs charging towards us. One of them was a harmless little skinny tan thing. The other was pure muscle, solid brown, and, if not a pit bull, then a pit bull's big cousin.

The huge bulldog charged me. Fortunately, he was a happy fellow, just excited to see me, and not prone to jumping up. Jumping up, he could have laid me flat without trying. And I had my wife's training in how to say hello to dogs. So all was well between us. Meanwhile, the tiny little critter - about the size of a football - tackled Vic joyfully, and the four of us danced together until the owner showed up.

The owner, an athletic guy, had his hands full getting a hold on the bulldog's collar and reining him in. It was a close match, and the dog had the upper hand at first. The little tan critter saw his chance for freedom, and bolted.

The dog owner, thinking of safety, declined my offer to hold the bulldog, and said he'd better take him inside. Vic yelled "I'll get the other one" and dashed off. I stood around being friendly, which, given one of my legs doesn't work very well, was about all I could do.

Back on the college football team, Vic was a defensive safety. It was his job to see which receiver was open, chase after him, get in front of him, and get the ball (or knock it to the ground). Well, that day, he was using all his talents. The little football of a dog had a head start of about half a block. Vic dashed after him - pure speed. The football stopped and turned back, probably to laugh at us, and Vic was brought up short. He was trying to grab the dog, but the way it was jumping, and the way he was stepping in, Vic was honestly afraid he'd crush the dog before he caught him.

But Vic was quick. He swooped up the football - I mean the dog - and jogged back to meet us. He came up about the time the dog owner came out, leaving the bulldog safely behind a closed door.

Good thing Vic knew better than to give the little mutt a victory bounce!

These days, it's not easy being a black football player named Vic. My friend gets endless Michael Vick jokes, and one young woman at his job - a dog lover - gets upset every time she hears the name Michael Vick.

But Vic has earned back his own name - Vic Dean, dog rescuer, not Michael Vick, dogfight organizer. Vic used his football talents to rescue that dog, and I'm glad to call him my friend.

Michael Vick, if you're out there listening, I hope you hear this. We really appreciate your work teaching young men not to get into dog fighting. There are good signs you've learned your lesson and cleaned up your act. I hope its true. I hope you use your football talents as wisely as your namesake, Vic Dean, the dog-rescuing football player, does.