By James Potter
When I was a small child, I had chubby cheeks and could surreptitiously store food in them like a squirrel or chipmunk.
I realized this physical attribute could work to my advantage at the dinner table. When Mom served vegetables that I despised, I would pack the fare into my cheeks and pretend to swallow it. Then I’d hurry off to the bathroom, spit the food out into the toilet, and hastily flush.
This activity went on successfully for months, until one summer evening. I stealthily stuffed a plateful of beets into my cheeks, excused myself from the table, and ran out the front door with the intent of concealing the evidence behind some bushes.
In my haste, I tripped and fell onto the cement walk and began screaming bloody murder! My mother rushed out and saw a gory scene—red ooze issuing from my mouth as I lay there bawling. “Oh my God! He’s bitten off his tongue!” Mom screamed as she raced to my side.
But Mom’s mood suddenly shifted when she realized the hemorrhaging was beet and not blood. Her exasperation was evident. Yet she was kind when she scolded me and told me to never do this again. Thereafter, she never forced me to eat a plateful of beets.
Now here is where the wheel of karma completes its turn, impresses its message, and collects a debt.
Many years later I was dog sitting my daughter Sabina’s golden lab, Schubert. Suddenly he displayed serious discomfort. Blood was flowing from his mouth and gums. Time to panic!
I called my wife at work for help. Luckily, she was in the neighborhood and came to my rescue. She took one look at Schubert and saw the reason for my panic. She quickly called Sabina. Fortunately, Sabina was only minutes away. She rushed home and took Schubert to a veterinarian just one block from our apartment.
The doctor examined Schubert and then quickly returned to the reception area. “Who fed the dog beets?” he asked. Well, it seems my daughter had cooked some beets for breakfast and gave some to Schubert as well. Dogs and beets do not mix, and the doctor advised Sabina to refrain from any further beet treats for Schubert.
This experience jarred my memory of when, years back, I had given my mother a severe shock with my ruse to discharge a mouthful of beets into the bushes.
Maybe Divine Spirit has a sense of humor. In any case, It has an uncanny way of making a point and teaching a lesson. Deception as seemingly innocuous as spitting out beets will come home to roost—even if it is sixty years later, as karma has no statute of limitation.
Lesson learned and fully appreciated.