Stop the Car

Fair warning: ranting ahead.

I will be the first to admit that I am incredibly soft-hearted. I cry watching Extreme Home Makeover. I cried watching the finale of "Lost." I cried reading my friend Randi's blog post about her daughter turning 3. Think the oatmeal-y, goulash-y, soupy version of soft-hearted. That's me.

One of the things that will cause me to weep copiously is pretty much anything sweet or sad or loyalty driven having to do with animals (I was already crying during the "Lost" finale, but when the dog did his thing with Jack [people who watched it know what I mean] I lost my marbles).

I drove us home from Jake's parent's house this weekend. As I was driving I see a dog start to walk out into the road.

Maybe it is just because my worst nightmare is to hit an animal, especially one that may be a beloved family pet, but I am constantly scanning the sides of the road when I drive for any type of movement. And I don't mean the sides of the road just to the front of where I am, I scan as far as I can. Any movement or (in the dark) flash of an eye means that I slow waaaaay down. Because of this, I noted the dog, slowed down, checked the other lane for oncoming traffic, and swerved around him.

The guy behind me should have had no trouble doing the same. When the person in front of me slows down and swerves, I am typically inclined to do the same. At the very least I slow to a crawl. Instead, this guy just drives like the road is totally clear and devoid of obstacles. I checked my rear view mirror just in time to see the poor dog get hit.

And he just kept on going.

There was probably nothing the guy could have done for the dog (you know, besides not hit it), but it seems so cruel not to stop and help. Maybe the dog could have been saved. Maybe it ended up on the side of the road, suffering, until it died. The guy better be glad that he didn't end up passing me on the road at any point; he would've gotten my middle finger and a dirty glare (I am totally the most mature person ever, I know).

I know exactly where the hatred for people like that comes from.

Right after we moved here in 2008, our dog, Crickey, dug out of our fence. Spencer and I were biking to the farmer's market and she tried to follow us. It took her long enough to get out of the fence that I didn't know she was on our trail. She got hit and died.

The person that hit her didn't stop, but some gentlemen that witnessed the accident did. They removed her body from the road, checked her collar, and called Jake. They told Jake that the accident was totally avoidable (the speed limit on the road where she was hit is only 30 MPH); the lady that hit her was not paying attention to the road.

I can't imagine the scene that would have occurred if I'd have biked back to the street to find her there. And the person that hit her should be very, very glad that I don't know who they are. I've never been a violent person, but I guarantee you that there would've been a fist thrown on my part.

I'm not naive enough to think that I'll never hit an animal (although I hope and pray never a dog or cat). But I promise you I'm kind enough to stop.