Sometimes you just need to talk about it

I terrible thing happened today. It's been on my mind all day and maybe writing will be therapeutic for me, so please bear with me.

I was driving home from school on a rural, hilly highway when I saw a cute little beagle running on the side. Whenever I see a dog running on the side of an even remotely busy road, I generally pull over and keep the dog with me while calling animal control (as long as conditions are safe for me to pull over). So today I did just that.

As soon as I pulled over, she decided to cross the street. I watched helplessly as a pickup truck slammed into her body. I can visualize it vividly now and I can still hear her high-pitched yelp. She quickly dragged her body off the street (her hind legs or maybe hip bone were clearly broken). Disoriented, she fell down a hill and into a ditch.

For those of you who know me well, you know that I am an enormous animal lover. Especially dogs. Especially beagles. And this was too much for my emotional nature to handle. So I ran across the street to try to find her while calling for animal control.

Thankfully, the man who hit her and a woman who also witnessed it turned around and came back to help me. The man crawled down and picked her up with my bedsheets. And, unfortunately, I saw very vividly how bad this was.

One eye was gone completely, with a bubble of blood in its place. The other seemed to be halfway gone. Her hind legs lay in a tangled mess, and pink froth lined her mouth. Sobbing, I held her in my arms and lied to her. "Hang on, sweetie. You're going to be alright."

Despite her panic, obvious pain, and disorientation, she didn't try to resist anyone. An obvious mama, she recognized that we were taking care of her. I sat with her on the side of the highway for half an hour until animal control came, all the while loving her as if she was my own pet. As she drifted in and out of consciousness, her breathing became softer.

I cried the most when animal control took her from me. I made sure my bedsheets were wrapped around her and handed her to the man who gently placed her in his truck. I couldn't help thinking that I was afraid she would die alone in a crate in the back of a pick up truck before being able to be put down peacefully.

I can't stop thinking about her. I'm angry at her owners for letting her run around, or maybe they were hunters who simply let her go in the wild after she was done with her breeding years or no longer a good hunter. I'm angry at the man who hit her. Why couldn't he have slowed down? And I'm angry at myself for being just a minute too late.

I keep telling myself that if I hadn't been there, she would have died alone in a muddy ditch, either picked to death by vultures, starved, or bled to death internally. I like to think my care helped to calm her down.



Some people just shouldn't be pet owners. Beagles are bred to follow their noses. They can't be let out to roam about. It just breaks my heart, and this poor girl died a painful death because of one person's irresponsibility.

I just hope she's resting peacefully now.