SOMETIMES, PEOPLE DO THE RIGHT THING.

Byline: SANDY SAND

Local View

ALL the selfish, self-centered actions by our local politicians that seem to work against us instead of for us, and all malicious acts committed by criminals that we read about on a daily basis, make it too easy to become cynical about our neighbors.

Couple that with all the rude people we run into every day at the office, the supermarket and on the road, we wonder if there are any Vals out there who really care about their fellow man (and woman).

The answer is, yes, there are, and it's a most pleasant change of pace to have an experience with a really thoughtful, go-out-of-his-way-for-you person. It reminds us that basically most people are good, and helps to cast some of the cynicism aside.

That is what happened to some of my cynicism around 9 o'clock the other morning when my phone rang.

The caller I.D. came up "private caller," but it wasn't the private caller call I was expecting. The man on the other end of the phone line inquired if he'd reached the residence of J.R.

Rather surprised, I said yes.

Under normal circumstances, I would have said, "Hold on a minute, I'll get him," but this was a little out of the realm of normal.

Now, J.R. is extremely smart. He is self-taught when it comes to opening lever-handled doors that pull inward when he thinks he's on the wrong side of the door. But he has yet to learn how to answer a telephone by using any of his four paws, nor has he learned to speak English, being that German shepherd is his native tongue. (Although we have become quite fluent in Arf and Wagatail.)

I laughed and told the man that he had, indeed, reached the residence of J.R.

Sounding either like he was in a terrible hurry, or had a no-nonsense voice, he said he found J.R.'s dog tag near the West Valley park that's down the hill and around the corner from the house.

Mr. Anonymous checked the address on the tag, and because it was too dog-dirty, he got the last half of the street name wrong. I told him the name of the street, and he didn't seem too pleased at the location of the house. He volunteered to put the tag in the mail.

I told him that would be so nice of him to do, and he practically hung up on me before I had a chance to say thank you again. Such a kindness deserves more than one thank you.

I managed to get out my appreciation for his thoughtfulness just before the phone went -- click!

Appreciated. Absolutely. We adopted J.R. when his mother was pregnant with him and his seven brothers and sisters.

A "dink" dog, the product of the mating of a brother and sister, because his thoughtless owner didn't have either of his two dogs spayed or neutered. But, he's the sweetest dink in the world, and that tag -- if nothing else -- has sentimental value since it was custom-made in the tag make 'em machine at the local pet store long before J.R. was born.

Of course, it really goes without saying that we always want him wearing his tag on the off-chance he gets it into his head to take himself for a walk. And if it weren't for Mr. Anonymous, I'm not sure how long it would have been before we noticed the tag was missing.

Long ago, I got used to people saying, I'll call you, which usually holds about as much weight as a paper cup under a boulder.

So, when I got the mail a few days later, I was pleasantly surprised to find an envelope addressed to J.R. with no return address. Not any envelope mind you, but one of those thick padded ones that prevents the contents from poking through. Inside was the lost tag.

Our leaders would be well served to take a lesson from Mr. Anonymous.

He is living, breathing proof that in spite of all the awful things bad people do that we hear about all the time, there are still people in our own San Fernando Valley who don't lie to us, who will do what they say they're going to do and who will take time out of their busy day to do a kindness for a stranger.

And ask nothing in return.