On Tuesday, we worked hard and fast to finish all our schoolwork and begin the holiday. August was at my parents’ house so in the afternoon we drove out to pick him up. The kids and I spent the afternoon with them and then headed home, excited for Neil to finish his workday and begin our short break and the many family traditions that revolve around this time of year. As I drove down our block, I ran over my neighbor’s dog. With both wheels.
I never saw the dog. When I felt the bumps, I thought it was a toy left in the street. I looked in the rearview mirror and saw the owner run out and pick up the dog. I stopped the car and ran over, the dog shook for a while and then died in her arms. It was terrible. My kids ran over too, asking so many questions. I quickly sent them home. The woman cried and cried and told me it was okay and cried some more.
After repeatedly offering to take her to the vet, or animal emergency room, and standing around for about an hour feeling horrible while she rocked the dog and cried, I told her I had to check on the kids and fill Neil in on what happened. It was so terrible.
We waited for her husband to get home and walked two doors down to apologize to him. They were gracious and told me it wasn’t my fault, the dog shouldn’t have been out loose. Accidents happen. They assured me there are no hard feelings. She was still crying.
I wish there was something redeeming about this story, something extraordinary to tell about, but there isn’t. I ran over their dog, and it was terrible.
We have to move now.