Coming Along.

Dear World,

Last week, while driving home fairly late in the evening, I spotted a young woman running in the grassy middle median of the road we usually take home. There was also a large man behind her. I had no idea what was going on, but. . . I somewhat reluctantly turned the car around to see if she needed help or something. Obviously, I really had not thought it through, but figured I could at least call 911. I soon come back upon the pair, only she was now on the other side of the road and the guy was sort of in the middle of the road, so I HAD to stop. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see her screaming and this was the moment I panicked inside as I wondered (of course, it would be NOW) what I had gotten myself into---and that I had my daughters in the car. In that same moment, also out of the corner of my eye, I see something small and furry run into the road---it was a small dog. My heart sank down to my toes. As soon as I saw the animal, I also saw it get hit by a pick-up truck. My oldest daughter fell apart right then and there and began to sob. I was in total shock, but the tears sprang up into my eyes soon enough. Fortunately, my younger daughter hadn't seen it as she was sitting in the back.

I roll down the window to offer assistance and the woman is running around screaming at the guy---who is completely and wholly freaking out because he saw the dog they'd apparently been trying to save, get hit. The driver of the pick-up simply takes off. So, I get out my phone as the woman comes running up to the car begging for us to help. Upon seeing the phone in my hand with the number dialed, she flies into a total rage and just starts screaming (in a highly postal fashion) at me about how I didn't call for help immediately and leans in and hits my hand hard enough to knock the phone clean out of it---BIG help. She yells various obscenities and more and then takes off at a dead run---pretty much just like the one I'd turned around for in the first place. Ordinarily, I'd have seriously thought about chasing her down and having her arrested, but. . . the poor dog starts crying. We hadn't expected that. It had actually survived that crushing blow. So, after much loud-speak at the guy to calm down and help us get the poor thing into the car so I can rush it to a vet the 911 operator has patched me to, we rush off and make a twenty-minute drive for life.

The poor thing cried the whole way while my younger daughter tried in vain to soothe it somewhat. Sadly, the vet felt the need to put him/her down immediately as it began to sieze when they tried to get it out of our car. We were just heart-broken over ALL of it.

I can't tell you how this woman's ugliness just added to it all---much like alchohol in an open wound. My older daughter (21 years old) was just so shocked at the way her behavior (on top of seeing a dog get hit) had turned SO suddenly (on a dime), and my younger daughter (17 years old) just wanted to deck her. The guy on the other hand eventually did calm down and even parted with a really nice jacket he'd been wearing---which we sort of used as a stretcher for the poor dog---which turned out to be just a puppy.

We still don't want to drive down that road anymore.

It wasn't all that nice to begin with.

Peace All,
the DragonLady