I (Julie) like dogs. Generally. Kind of. I grew up with dogs my whole life. So, so many dogs. It seems our family was always rotating one into our home. Most of the dogs ended up being terrible and were taken back to the Humane Society. Our favorite dogs died.
I love the idea of “a boy and his dog.” I can see Nate needing one someday. It just has to be the right dog. Loving, playful, sweet, doesn’t shed much, not too big, and cute. Like a beagle.
Something exactly like the poor little dog I killed today.
I pulled out of our street going the speed limit with the two little kids in the backseat. A gray cat darted in front of me and I swerved slightly to avoid it. A couple of seconds after feeling relieved, I hit something else. I pulled over to the side of the road and looked. At first I thought it was a cat. I felt bad, but there are strays around here so I wasn’t too worried. But it was still moving. What was I going to do?
A lady who was driving behind me also pulled over and got a blanket out of her car to put over the animal. When I got over to them I saw that it was the cutest little white beagle with a collar and tags. By that time the poor little thing had died. The scene was a little graphic and I was glad it was mostly covered. The lady carried it over to the sidewalk. I’m so glad she was there because I’m not sure I could have done that without vomiting.
I knocked at the house I thought the dog had run from and a nice couple opened the door. I asked them if they have a little white dog. They said yes, smiling. I had to tell them I had just hit it and it had died. The husband ran outside to go get it and the wife broke down, crying frantically. She said her boys were going to be heartbroken.
Turns out, the lady who helped me was a friend of the family and was able to help console. My kids were still in the car not knowing what was happening, luckily. I had to get back to them so I repeatedly apologized as I walked away. I’m going to take some cookies or something to them tomorrow and apologize again. I don’t know what else can be done.
I know it’s not my fault, but I still feel terrible.