Wrong Place, Wrong Time

The BabyBoy and I have been sharing my car.  Right now it’s working out pretty well, seeing as how I don’t have a job to go to and he doesn’t have a car.   We manage to coordinate, and since he lives right next door, for the most part, it’s okay.

Yesterday I needed to use the car to run some errands and gather some supplies for craft-making, so I dropped him off at the grooming shop to meet his appointments, and I headed out.

When I finished, I picked him up so he could take me home so he could head back to the shelter to groom a dog there.

We headed west.  No issues.

A big brown dog shot across the highway from left to right in our path, and her right side made a solid connection with the right front end of the car.  The momentum of the hit carried her into the ditch.

BabyBoy pulled off on the side of the road.  I grabbed my jacket and ran back to her, thinking that we might need to use it as a sling to carry her, and BabyBoy backed the car back to where she lay in the ditch.

She was already gone.  We loaded her into the back of Old Yeller, and my first thought was to get her to the shelter, so they could perhaps identify her and contact the owner.  I used the jacket to cover her upper body, for she was a big dog and the jacket wouldn’t cover all of her.

I called the shelter, told them who I was, what happened, and that we were on the way with the dog’s body.  When we got to the shelter I backed the car to the main gate, and BabyBoy went inside to get someone while I stayed with the dog.

He came back with a young man, perhaps about 22 years old, who was going to help carry the dog to the back of the shelter.  I told him that she was deceased, that she had no capillary refill and no blink response.

He pulled the jacket off her head, and said, “Oh my God.  That’s MY dog.  That’s Juno.”

And it was.



One Response to “Wrong Place, Wrong Time”

  1. Becky Says:

    Oh, yuck, how unreal and terrible. What a way to discover that your doggie is gone. I’m so sorry!


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