What I Saw of the Family Dog

Just making dinner. Cooking & washing dishes, jumping from stove to sink and back again. Compost bucket overflowing and needing emptying ready for the worm bin outside. Bucket in hand I open the door. As the door swings open to the air I hear a loud SMACK from out on the road. Locked brakes. A dog whimper. A little girl's cry. "She ran out in the road." Dog whimper. Girl crying........" She's dead, she's dead." No more dog whimper.

I can't see. There's rose bushes and about 500 yards and trees between me and the road. I can only hear the little girl crying. "She ran out into the road." I stand there for a moment. Am I really hearing what I'm hearing? I don't go out to the road but back into the house and upstairs wondering if I can see. I have a two story house and from upstairs I can look down upon the houses in front of me and out towards the road. But I can't see much of the road or to the water because of my neighbors trees that are in my way (which incidentally is an 'issue' as I have a legal view easement.") so I don't expect to see at all. Strangely though, the little patch of road I'm able to see from my perch is right where the dog is laying dead, and the little girl and an older brother and the lady that hit the dog looking at it.

I had just put binoculars by the window and I put them to my eye. I recognize the kids as ones going up and down the road continuously and that live across the street in this settlement of trailers and den of eternal drinkers. The girl is about 7 and the boy about 10. Children of some pretty trashy alcholics. That is the honest to god truth. I feel sad but I also have that terrible callous feeling of "it figures." The kids so often left to their own devices and here they are now all alone by the side of the road dealing with their dead dog.

The woman who hit the dog I recognize her too. She lives a little further down the road. She has her hand on the boy's shoulder uncomfortably comforting the boy who stands stiffly looking at his dead dog. The little girl runs off. I am still watching. I don't know why. The little girl returns with her father. I see him start yelling at the woman who hit the dog. I can't believe this. She recoils a little and mouths a few words. She's not yelling. She obviously is upset. She just hit and killed these kid's dog and it's laying dead at her feet. The father keeps yelling. The woman turns her back and gets into her car and drives off.

As soon as the car leaves the father now starts yelling at his son who is staring down at his dog and then the dad and the little girl walk off. The boy stares at his dead dog some more and then follows his father and sister. All this time I never see anyone touch the dog.

I watch the road on and off for about the next 10 minutes. Are they just going to leave the dog there? The boy comes back and he has a big coal shovel. He looks down at the dog, he turns around, he puts the shovel to the dog and he very gingerly starts to try and put the shovel under the dog. He stops. He looks around. He stares at the dog. He tries again. Where's his father? He pushes at the dog with the shovel. The dogs limp body moves a little. It looks to be a medium size dog. Probably about 45 lbs. He pushes at the dog some more and then stops and stares. I realize he's trying to push the dogs body into the ditch. It's not very easy. It's not very pleasant. There's no one to help. He probably doesn't want to do it. But my guess is that he has been ordered by his father to DO IT.

I'm absolutely appalled. No comfort for the son. No dignity for the dead dog. Anger at the woman who hit the dog yes. Anger at the son who was with the dog when it got hit. And just a shovel to push the dog into the ditch.

I want to go out there myself and help the kid with the dead dog and pick it up in my arms and go help him bury it but I realize I better stay just where I am. I've kept the road between myself and that encampment for years and I'd like to keep it that way. The dog being hit by the car interrupted the father's drinking. He had to pay attention to something other than the bottle. Helping the son bury the dog would only be seen as familial interference by him and better not to go there. Instead I'll stay my distance. Tomorrow I'll make a call to the county road crew and tell them there's a dead dog and ask them to pick it up. Better at the landfill than having the kids having to walk past their decomposing dog day after day. The son puts the shovel to the dog and it flops into the ditch. The boy with shovel walks away.