The Other Night...

I was leaving a meeting. It was dark. As I drove down the street, I first saw a pile of something in the middle of the street. Wondering what that was, I was aware of a couple on the side of the street, a woman in the throes of something and a man who was pulling a garbage can out into the middle of the road. As I approached, he waved me on.

I wondered what was going on for a few seconds, and as I passed the garbage can, I looked down to see a small terrier, a tiny dog, lying, lifeless. A large pool of blood surrounded its head on the asphalt.

And I wanted to scream, to jump from my car and yell "What the hell happened?" and "What can I do?" but I just kept driving.

I just kept driving.

I think I know that the poor animal was dead. At least I hope it was.

And the whole drive home, I wondered about the person that hit it: did they notice? did they care?

Eight years ago, my wife's dog was hit on a similar road, and the minivan never slowed down. Unfortunately for her, the dog lived and had to be put down.

But what about that dog? Who would do that?


This post has nothing to do with anything except that I don't know where else to dump my sadness from seeing that dead dog on the street - not a dead dog on the side of the road that you pass at 30 or 50 mph, but a dog that someone was putting a blockade in front of it, so no one would defile that furry body.

It was horrible. It will haunt me for years.

I cannot imagine what people who actually fight in wars go through.

That is all.