The Dog Bit. The Boy Cried. The City Kept on Walking.

On Saturday, I walked down 6th Avenue from Penn Station toward Bryant Park – to see if I could catch up with Moses for a game of chess.  He was there, in his usual spot, with his board set up.  He wears a black dress shirt, white suspenders, and a black fedora.  Tough to miss him.  It's well known that he teaches kids to play chess because they are always at his table.  They make their moves, then he tells them to take them back – because there are always better ones. 

In between his instruction of the little ones, he squeezes in games with some of the big kids.  That’s me. 

I pulled this pic of someone else’s X. Apparently I’m not the first writer to recognize this guy

Fun.  But that’s not what this post is about. 

When I’m in busy places, my eyes tend to dart around quickly.  So while taking special notice of the homeless on Saturday – I filled my brain with Polaroid pictures…images that are hard to grasp.  A grown man sleeping on the sidewalk – lying on his left side facing a brick building.  His pants were pulled down to his thighs – underwear showing.  Underwear that needed a wash.

I saw a man, seemingly in his 20s, sitting in a lawn chair.  Barefoot.  Head back, eyes closed.  He hadn’t shaved in months.  And even though it was 81 degrees, his upper torso was covered with a dingy blanket.  The number of people who walked by him as though he didn’t exist was astounding.  After I passed, I turned, to verify that the people who passed him by didn’t even glance at him. 

There was a lady sitting crisscross applesauce.  Her face was weathered by the sun, the wind, and dehydration, and the downtown grime we get on our ankles – a byproduct of a good city walk.  Her black lab was curled up with her – a black lab with a job to do.  Some poor kid who was walking with his mother got too close.  The dog lashed out, biting him on his left leg.  I couldn’t see if there was any blood – but for sure…100% he got bit.

The boy’s mother freaked.  She yelled at the homeless woman, asking if the dog ever got a rabies shot.  The only thing I could think to myself was…No.  The dog did not have a rabies shot…or any shot for that matter.  How could a person who seemingly cannot afford a cup of coffee spring for the puppy package at the local vet? 

Disbelief in the face of the mom.  Physical pain on the face of the kid.  A dog showing its teeth.  A homeless woman, unfazed by any of it.  Philosophically, although he didn’t mean to – the boy walked into her house.  The dog just did its job.  I am pretty certain that the dog has stood between the homeless woman and potential death at times.  The dog…was doing its job. 

A dog that provides more safety than any human could or would

The mom wanted accountability from a person who lives from one moment to the next.  I, along with everyone in the vicinity of the attack…we were all thinking the exact same thing.  What would I do if that dog bit my kid?   It was shocking.  What do you do, what do you say to a person who has less than nothing?  What can even be accomplished?  Just get the kid to urgent care, and forget about the rest.  That’s what I figured would be the best – probably the only thing to do.

Moses tells kids to take their moves back — because there are always better ones. But out there on 6th Avenue, there aren’t any takebacks. Not for the boy who walked too close and got bitten. Not for the mother who wanted answers that the homeless woman couldn’t possibly give. Not for the woman herself, who survives moment to moment with only her dog between her and danger.  And for those of us who saw it – no way we can erase it from our minds.

It reminded me that life doesn’t always offer do-overs.

But sometimes it does.

For those of us who still have stability, safety, and choices, we still get the gift of making a better move. We can choose to look up instead of looking away. We can choose to see the people everyone else passes by.   

We can let the imagery of people in such desolate conditions remind us that our problems are minor compared to those of the great big world. 

What struck me most was how invisible suffering can become in a city that really never sleeps – just like in the song. Thousands of people passed by, eyes forward, earbuds in, schedules too tight to notice. It’s easier not to look. But pretending not to see doesn’t erase the truth of another person’s pain. It just erases our humanity a little at a time.

I know he’s just teaching kids to play the beautiful game of chess.  But I also want to believe that there is a puzzle Moses helps kids unravel at his table: sometimes the better move isn’t about strategy or winning — it’s about awareness. It’s about slowing down long enough to notice, long enough to care, long enough to recognize that every human being on that sidewalk has a story. And if we see them, if we honor that story even briefly, maybe we’ve made the better move life was offering us all along.

It’s not just about pawns and rooks — it’s about life. He reminds kids that the game is full of possibilities, and that every position has more than one option. On the street, in our communities, in our daily lives, that’s true too.

If we can stay calm, keep others in our hearts and minds, and care just a little – there’s always going to be a better move.