...is that I killed a dog last night while I was driving home from dinner with my parents.
I'm glad a friend of mine was with me who made me stay in the car while she checked whether the dog was dead or injured, and who assured me there was nothing I could have done.
He was a little chihuahua, black and tan, no tags, no collar. Neighbors came out to see what was going on, but no one knew whose he was, just that he had been running in the street all day.
His eyes were open, he had a wound on his head, he wasn't moving. We had boxes in the car from stuff of mine my mom had cleaned out of the attic. We took off a lid and put his body on it and carried him to the car. We put him in the hatchback. I petted him. He was still warm. I felt no heartbeat.
Still we weren't sure. My friend asked one of the neighbors, a woman, to borrow a spoon so we could check for breathing. Another neighbor, a man, said, "Oh, he's dead." My friend asked then if he knew where the chihuahua lived. "We just moved in today," he said. "Welcome to the neighborhood," my friend said, wryly.
The woman arrived with the spoon and I held it to the chihuahua's nose. Nothing. We put a towel that happened to be in the car over his body. My friend drove.
Poor little guy. I hope he didn't suffer. I hope he's happy now, and at peace. I hope I treat my own dogs and cats with care. If there's more I could have done, I pray that God will forgive me for not doing it.
On the way home, we found a place for him to rest with dignity, I think. At any rate, that is my hope and my prayer. May he rest in peace and rise in glory. St. Laika, pray for us. And God have mercy upon us.