The dog-in-the-street story

You cannot unread this story. Probably you should surf to another blog today, or read one of my better stories, like The Special Day Class or The Pregnant Teenager Story.

This will conclude my three-day series of stories non gratae.

We were about two blocks from home when my son looked out the window and saw a little dog running alongside our car. “He’s racing us.”

The dog’s legs were short, but he was fast. We thought it was funny.

We lived on a wide, busy street. As we pulled in front of our house, my husband said, “We oughta get that dog before he runs into traffic.”

My son ran to the sidewalk, crouched and patted his thighs. “C’mere b–”

We heard thu-thunk.

My son says the dog turned and looked at him just as a truck caught him. The truck drove off.

I held my son while he repeated, ‘Oh no.’ I hated that he saw that.

The kids and I went in the house while my husband went to see if the dog was alive.

When he hadn’t come back after an hour I called his cell phone. He was sedate, “Yeah?”

“Where are you?”

“In the garage.”

The dog had looked dead, but when my husband moved it to the sidewalk it started jerking.

Silence. Then, “I’m looking for something to kill it with, but I can’t do it. I don’t think I can do it. I’m just standing here. The dog’s on the sidewalk. It’s thrashing. It’s in too much pain.”

I was so worried about my son, it hadn’t occured to me to worry about my husband.

I called the animal hospital for advice. They told me to bring the dog in.

By then the dog was dead. Can I bring my husband in? He needs a shot of whatever you were gonna give that dog.

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5 Responses to “The dog-in-the-street story”

  1. Fred Bauman Says:

    As I mentioned before, few experiences are unique.
    When my boys were little we were coming back from somewhere and witnessed a little cat get run over at an intersection.
    I stopped the car to see if we could help the cat, which was still alive.
    Much to my relief a telephone lineman had also stopped. He got out of his van to see what could be done.
    “He’ll take him to the vet,” I assured my boys. Dressed in his heavy workboots, gloves and safety helmet, the lineman approached the animal, bent down to check it, then raised his right leg and stomped down on it as hard as he could.
    My boys started to scream. The lineman raised his arms as if in despair, his expression clearly saying “There’s nothing else I could do. I had to put it out of its misery.”
    I think the boys understood.

  2. gunky Says:

    i read the first line. that was enough for me.

  3. roberto Says:

    I’ve used the head smashing technique on smaller critters that I’ve found on our property that are beyond saving. Birds, mice and such. I find that one well-aimed blow with a sledgehammer is quick and humane. It’s not a pleasant job but somebody’s gotta do it.

  4. roberto Says:

    I was golfing one day and actually witnessed a person over on the next fairway his his ball into a tall fir tree. There was some commotion as he and his partner ran over to the base of the tree hunched over something. I could hear them talking about hitting a squirrel right off the side of the tree. Then I saw one of them pounding it with his club. I think he was using an 8 iron.

  5. roberto Says:

    I was golfing with a guy once who drove is ball off the tee into a small group of Canadian geese 50 yards away, hitting one of them square in the head and killing it instantly. He tossed it into a ditch off the fairway. What else are you supposed to do with a dead goose on a golf course? I suppose he really should have taken it home and cooked it.

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