Impermanence

Tuesday, November 13, 2018

Watched a dog get killed on my way home a few weeks ago, when the leaves were still green and yellow. In front of FH. Poor girl didn't stand a chance, trotting out from behind bushes in the dark. Driver might not have even seen her at all, the timing was so tight. Didn't stop or slow that I saw, even after. I could see what was imminent many seconds before impact. Had time to talk to the spirits, call out "stop right there!". No good. She went quickly. Crying while I stopped the car, but eyes unresponsive by the time I got on scene. Convulsed 3,4 times a few tens of seconds apart then quiet. Didn't complain when we carried body to the shoulder. ... Hit me stronger than Albert's passing. Breathe. Feel. Repeat.

Last Thursday I was first again, or at least first to stop. This time I didn't see it happen. This driver had stopped. Not that there was a chance of pretending something didn't happen, what with the pieces of plastic bumper and windshield wiper bucket scattered over the pavement. He would have stopped anyway though. He stood there with a stricken look on his face saying "nothing like this has ever happened to me before". Immobile with indecision. The dogs' owner wore indecision's other face, charging this way, then that, emitting heart rending cries at each turn by turn. The 9 month pup was inert, eyes open, warm, drooping over my arms with way too much slack. The mom breathing harshly, eyes open but tracking nothing. Barely whimpered and no defensive snapping when we moved her into the back of another car. They charged off to the vet, who was already on the other end of a cell call. She might be alive, modern trauma medicine is amazing, but I don't think so.

It turns out a person can get good at moving into action and getting dead dogs off the road in the midst of end-of-work traffic. But, World: I don't need to practice this anymore. I'm good enough already thank you. I will however, insure my truck always has an easy to grab pair of gloves and an old blanket or towel under the back seat.

Breathe. Feel. Repeat.