In the course of a long and fruitful life, I have witnessed many events, some extraordinarily happy, almost the stuff of fairy tales. Others leave haunting, lifelong memories, some even nightmarish.

For me, two tales in particular now reveal the darker side of mankind, the never-changing tendency of our species to wreak havoc upon both fellow man and beast — the sort of havoc that fixes permanent tortured visions upon those of us unfortunate enough to witness them.

And no matter how hard we try, reaching deep into our conscience gives us little peace.

Many years ago on a hunting expedition near the border in Mexico, I was a guest and passenger in a caravan of Suburbans speeding down a lonely road, enjoying the scenery, admiring the grand haciendas we rapidly passed. Around a curve we came upon a palatial mansion that was especially imposing.

Our Mexican guide told us that the ranch was owned by a drug patrón. We gazed in awe at the hilltop hacienda’s size and opulence. Passing a massive entry gate, we saw that a mother dog and her puppies had been dumped and were dangerously close to the road. The puppies were playfully annoying the mother and otherwise enjoying their life on a beautiful sunny afternoon.

Little did they know man’s evil nature had entered their life. We flew by in a second; a mental photo was taken and permanently implanted in my mind.

After a wonderful hunt many miles away, we returned down the same darkened road, rejoicing in our success and looking forward to the gourmet Mexican feast awaiting us at Casa Blanca. Suddenly our Suburban swerved, following the others almost off the road, avoiding the lifeless bodies of the mother dog and her large litter of puppies scattered in the roadway.

In a flash, another mental photo was taken, painfully placed next to the first.

For years I have replayed this unhappy scene, asking forgiveness for not acting on behalf of those helpless creatures. I should have stopped the caravan earlier and rendered aid but I didn’t, and for that misdeed I will forever be haunted.

Instant replay of mental images occur with everyone, sometimes offering wonderful images, sometimes macabre nightmares. Does the replay of such cruelties and inhumanity constitute post-traumatic stress disorder? I wonder.

Imagine, if you will, being at nearby Fort Hood on Nov. 5, seeing a Muslim terrorist dressed as an American soldier, killing indiscriminately innocent Americans, all while screaming “Allahu Akbar.” Can we feel the pain of hearing the screams of those whose lives are forever changed by gunfire from an Islamic jihadist doing his evil god’s work? Can we even imagine any god condoning acts committed by a follower who, by all appearances, enjoyed his wicked deeds? Can we imagine the ongoing nightmares of those who survived this jihadist massacre? Can we imagine the pain of post-traumatic stress preying upon those soldiers who survived this afternoon of terror, only to be deployed to yet other combat zones for extended periods?

A student of history — and I fancy myself one — will acknowledge that this world is quite possibly no more or no less dangerous than at any other period. War, plague, pestilence, disease, natural disaster have always been present, and probably are no worse today than yesteryear.

However, it’s also important to remember that this is our time to contemplate such dangers and, if we can summon the courage and foresight, to step forward and do what we can to combat it.

Time is a great healer. Even though instant replay of those horrific events occurs often enough, perhaps it’s just as well. Perhaps the haunting memories and grim images of such incidents remind each of us of our greater role in society.

In the end, our resolve to protect this world must prevail, including above all else our nation, our people, our animals and, yes, our environment. These should be viewed as an absolute obligation — and never an option.

Clifton Robinson is chairman of Robinson Media, which owns the Waco Tribune-Herald.