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This evening, my girl, L, and I went to see "The Help" at the local theater. I had been looking forward to seeing the movie ever since devouring the book this past summer. It was a fantastic film, despite some changes, and I am determined to read the book again A.S.A.P.
We laughed and cried. I had some tissue in my pocked, but it wasn't nearly enough to cover the tears, so I simply let them roll down my face before using my jacket sleeve to mop them up. My girl was sniffling right beside me.
We left the theater around 9:15 and were traveling down the mostly dark Mission Avenue, when we passed a dead Labrador in the middle of the street. We were instantly saddened again, and decided to pull around to see if it had any identification. With my little flashlight in hand, we made our way over to the dog, who had a broken neck and was a bloody mess. Already emotionally fragile from the film, outraged at whoever just left the dog in the road after killing it was compounded by the heedless drivers who drove past us without slowing. We were both almost hit. Multiple times. I have to say, we didn't use our pretty language as we told them to SLOW DOWN! L got the collar off, but there were no id tags. She placed it on a nearby mailbox and as we contemplated what to do, two more cars pulled over. Turns out, these folks had also been to see the film and had pulled over after seeing a dead white dog on the side of the road. Two dead dogs. L ran over. Same story. Collar but no tags. A few more cars pulled over, and even though there were multiple people in the street, with blinking emergency lights and flashlights, the cars just kept barrelling by. The dog in the middle of the street was miraculously not hit again, right in front of us.
A teenage girl came running down the driveway and asked what had happened. I told her there were two dead dogs. She said they were hers, that they had been out looking for them. Oh, heartache. She was crying and I was crying, hugging her. Her dad came running out and he was very distraught as well.
One of the bystanders offered to help him move the dogs, but he pulled the black one by himself to the side. He went and got his truck and the two men picked up both dogs and set them inside. The girl said she had to go home to tell her sister. The dad was crying very hard by the time his task was completed, hugged us both and thanked us numerous times. Seems he and his family had just moved to this house, which explained why the dogs didn't have tags yet.
The whole night was surreal. I am emotionally drained. It's almost midnight and I have chores to do, lunches to make, and need to be at work with my son by 7:30 a.m., but I am wired. I shot off a letter to the editor of my local newspaper, imploring my fellow townspeople to be considerate of people in their times of need. My heart hurts for the family that just lost their animals. I was very happy to come home to my own two waggy-tailed pups. Goodnight and thanks for listening.
We laughed and cried. I had some tissue in my pocked, but it wasn't nearly enough to cover the tears, so I simply let them roll down my face before using my jacket sleeve to mop them up. My girl was sniffling right beside me.
We left the theater around 9:15 and were traveling down the mostly dark Mission Avenue, when we passed a dead Labrador in the middle of the street. We were instantly saddened again, and decided to pull around to see if it had any identification. With my little flashlight in hand, we made our way over to the dog, who had a broken neck and was a bloody mess. Already emotionally fragile from the film, outraged at whoever just left the dog in the road after killing it was compounded by the heedless drivers who drove past us without slowing. We were both almost hit. Multiple times. I have to say, we didn't use our pretty language as we told them to SLOW DOWN! L got the collar off, but there were no id tags. She placed it on a nearby mailbox and as we contemplated what to do, two more cars pulled over. Turns out, these folks had also been to see the film and had pulled over after seeing a dead white dog on the side of the road. Two dead dogs. L ran over. Same story. Collar but no tags. A few more cars pulled over, and even though there were multiple people in the street, with blinking emergency lights and flashlights, the cars just kept barrelling by. The dog in the middle of the street was miraculously not hit again, right in front of us.
A teenage girl came running down the driveway and asked what had happened. I told her there were two dead dogs. She said they were hers, that they had been out looking for them. Oh, heartache. She was crying and I was crying, hugging her. Her dad came running out and he was very distraught as well.
One of the bystanders offered to help him move the dogs, but he pulled the black one by himself to the side. He went and got his truck and the two men picked up both dogs and set them inside. The girl said she had to go home to tell her sister. The dad was crying very hard by the time his task was completed, hugged us both and thanked us numerous times. Seems he and his family had just moved to this house, which explained why the dogs didn't have tags yet.
The whole night was surreal. I am emotionally drained. It's almost midnight and I have chores to do, lunches to make, and need to be at work with my son by 7:30 a.m., but I am wired. I shot off a letter to the editor of my local newspaper, imploring my fellow townspeople to be considerate of people in their times of need. My heart hurts for the family that just lost their animals. I was very happy to come home to my own two waggy-tailed pups. Goodnight and thanks for listening.
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