While driving back to the house last night, I was startled out of my evening reverie by the increasing-volume barking of an incredibly agitated dog. In the left lane of a major four-lane road, a beagle-like dog suddenly materialized out of the darkness and ran straight at me.
I did the usual panic thing: brake, swerve into the other lane, control the inevitable skid and bring the vehicle to a safe stop. Not easy to do when the roads are mushy-snowy and your heart jumps into your stomach and you can feel it pounding in your ears.
Thankfully, the only cars near me were far enough back that I didn't hit them. I pulled over and looked back to see where the poor pooch was. He was sprinting in a straight line and was well over a block away - and disappearing fast - by the time I got out of the car. There was no way I or anyone else was going to catch him.
I drove home with a heavy heart. Glad I hadn't hit him, and glad I didn't damage anyone else, or myself, in the process. But I worried about whether he (she?) made it safely back to his owner. I worried about a family somewhere wondering where their pet had gone. I hugged our own now-geriatric cat, Shadow, and took comfort that we had him for at least another day.
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3 comments:
Poor pup. Whenever I have seen pets trotting around on the freeway, I've always wondered how they got there. Glad you employed your safe driving skills and lived to tell the tale.
Rachel: Thanks! I've often joked about how I'll soon need a shotgun, and I'll need to keep it handy until she's 30. That's when I'll allow her to start dating. I kid, of course, but I often worry about how the world perceives a child who's so beautiful. I know I'm biased, but she really is captivating. Her brothers are, alas, also heartbreakers. Oh man, the future we're gonna have!
Mellie Helen: I'm often criticized for daring to observe the speed limit and drive like a paranoid individual. I was in a fairly major car accident as a child. I was lucky enough to walk away relatively unscathed, but I shouldn't have. It marked me in a very profound manner: I have a massive respect for the power of momentum. I was at the speed limit when this happened. 60 km/h, or about 38 miles/hour. I was right on the ragged edge of control when I swerved on the wet/almost-icy road. Any faster and I would have wrapped the car around a pole.
That difference between disaster and simply telling a close-call story is unbelievably small. And it always originates in a conscious decision to drive like you mean it.
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