I've never figured out why a suburban motherfucker needs one of these.
So, Bad News around the house today.Here's the story:
This morning as I'm making Tiny some grits with cheese I spill some cheese on the floor. So, I go to the door to call the dog in from his morning pee to eat the cheese. I call the dog, I hear his collar jingling and I focus on the sound and see that he is going to come across the road. l also hear the rev of an engine and then it happens. Just as I'd seen it thousands of times, the dog runs across the road. I have enough time to see the dog breach the bushes encroaching upon the road, look at the oncoming, speeding, non-braking, non-stopping SUV, and then the thump. It sounded like you took a slab of brisket and wailed on the fender of a car, except more brutal.
Then the dog is yelping, yelping, yelping. He spins in the road and I see his limbs flailing, I swear I can see the terror in his eyes. I think, "Holy Fuck, now I have to go out there and bash his head in with a rock because he is totally fucked." Then I go get my phone to call Felicia's Uncle to ask him if he can come shoot Rommel so I can go bury him somewhere. As I'm dialing I go to check that the dog is still in the road and I don't have to run him down. To my surprise, he's up and running, and not gimpy either. Maybe it's the adrenaline but he comes up the steps, under the crib, and he (naturally) has an insane look in his eyes.
I decide that I can't have him puking up blood in front of the children and all over our stuff so I get him and take him downstairs to the garage. I check him out: no bloody spittle, no compound fractures, no overtly recognizable broken bones. In short, he's not only lucky to be alive but he's on the lower end of horribly injured due to a hit and run.
We don't have money to take him to a vet to X-Ray him and tell us that his ribs are broken and that he needs rest to recoup or else he is just going to die. So, fuck it. He's at home. He looks like you would imagine a dog who survives an impact with a two-ton, speeding, lump of metal. Hell, he looks good. I figure that if he lasts until morning, he'll make it.
In closing, if you own an SUV, you not only are killing the environment, pouring money into the coffers of governments whose citizens are willing recruits for Jihad, you also have a hand in the suffering of a small Pembroke Corgi in Alaska.
This morning as I'm making Tiny some grits with cheese I spill some cheese on the floor. So, I go to the door to call the dog in from his morning pee to eat the cheese. I call the dog, I hear his collar jingling and I focus on the sound and see that he is going to come across the road. l also hear the rev of an engine and then it happens. Just as I'd seen it thousands of times, the dog runs across the road. I have enough time to see the dog breach the bushes encroaching upon the road, look at the oncoming, speeding, non-braking, non-stopping SUV, and then the thump. It sounded like you took a slab of brisket and wailed on the fender of a car, except more brutal.
Then the dog is yelping, yelping, yelping. He spins in the road and I see his limbs flailing, I swear I can see the terror in his eyes. I think, "Holy Fuck, now I have to go out there and bash his head in with a rock because he is totally fucked." Then I go get my phone to call Felicia's Uncle to ask him if he can come shoot Rommel so I can go bury him somewhere. As I'm dialing I go to check that the dog is still in the road and I don't have to run him down. To my surprise, he's up and running, and not gimpy either. Maybe it's the adrenaline but he comes up the steps, under the crib, and he (naturally) has an insane look in his eyes.
I decide that I can't have him puking up blood in front of the children and all over our stuff so I get him and take him downstairs to the garage. I check him out: no bloody spittle, no compound fractures, no overtly recognizable broken bones. In short, he's not only lucky to be alive but he's on the lower end of horribly injured due to a hit and run.
We don't have money to take him to a vet to X-Ray him and tell us that his ribs are broken and that he needs rest to recoup or else he is just going to die. So, fuck it. He's at home. He looks like you would imagine a dog who survives an impact with a two-ton, speeding, lump of metal. Hell, he looks good. I figure that if he lasts until morning, he'll make it.
In closing, if you own an SUV, you not only are killing the environment, pouring money into the coffers of governments whose citizens are willing recruits for Jihad, you also have a hand in the suffering of a small Pembroke Corgi in Alaska.
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