Last week I heard a story from one of our campuses that just has to be told. The Summit’s West Club Campus is located in the heart of a historical neighborhood that is populated with urban professionals and urban professional canines. These are the types of canines that likely have bowls with their names on them, and the vet knows them on a first name basis (because face it, dogs with last names are kind of silly). In other words: these people take their dogs very seriously.
That’s illustrated by the fact that on any given Sunday morning, you can find roughly 912 people walking their dogs down the sidewalk in front of the campus. That’s where Bob Bacon comes in.
The Bacon family are long time fixtures at the Summit. They are the go-to people for just about everything, because they seem to know just about everything. Bob is the kind of guy that, if you have a need, you can’t tell him about the need, because he’ll walk right out and take care of the need. If I were to tell him that I needed the pollen from a flower that can only be found on a craggy outcropping at the top of Mount Fuji, he would strap on his hiking boots and brush up on his Japanese, because doggone it he’s gonna get me some Fuji flower pollen. That’s just the kind of guy he is.
Bob is also one of our parking team guys over at West Club, and a few months ago he came up with a brilliant way to engage the dog walkers in conversation: he keeps a pocket full of dog biscuits for his four-legged friends. Now, the dogs see Bob way before the owners see Bob, and they drag their owners down the sidewalk to get one of Bob’s treats. No word whether or not they’re bacon flavored (ba-dum-bum).
This one little act of creative kindness has cemented Bob – and West Club – as a familiar, friendly group of people who care about the neighborhood and the dogs within. Great job, Mr. Bacon. Keep passing out Milk Bones for Jesus.