The road is a dangerous place.
A car was pulled over on the corner near my house the other night. A cluster of people stood alongside something in the street. As I turned, the headlights swept across the unmistakable figure of a dog.
She’d bolted from the owner’s house and into a busy road; the driver who hit her never had a chance to slow down, and swerving to avoid an animal can get you hurt.
Everybody was shaken up, the driver and her friend, the dog’s owner, a passing motorist. Between the people and the car askew in the street and the fatally wounded animal, it was a dangerous situation that could have yielded another accident.
So I moved the dog, a big, beautiful golden retriever, onto a tarp I keep in the back of my car and carried her to her master’s driveway.
She was still as warm as she’d been when she dashed outside minutes earlier, and looked for all the world like she was sleeping. But she had no pulse and was not breathing.
For a second I thought about trying to do CPR — I’ve seen stories about this — but not knowing anything about her injuries, I didn’t think it would be a good idea trying to revive her. She looked fine on the outside, but was broken on the inside.
Some things you just can’t stop, and bad timing will always get you in the end. A second here or there, that’s what it’s all about.
Dodge the car and enjoy another day. Half a step short and you’ll dream the eternal dream of chasing balls, barking at the garbage man, and running, running, running.