I've been a little terse lately. I realize this. Here's why:
I have been so traumatized by the following event that I haven't been able to think, speak or write of it until now.
On Halloween, I was returning to my truck from Grampa Ebert's house, southbound on I-75 just north of Midland, MI. I was driving my Dodge pickup at around 75 mph. (Speed limit is 70, so, yeah, I was speeding.) Suddenly, ahead of me, I saw brake lights and cars swerving every which way. I had plenty of time to slow down.
When I reached the area where the trouble was, there was a beautiful white and black Bluetick Coonhound in the middle of the hammer lane About 100 yards up, an SUV was on the left shoulder with some of its body parts in the road. I pulled to the right shoulder to see if anyone needed help. AJ, of course, wanted to see what was up too, but he stayed in the pickup and was very good during this whole thing.
As I got out of my truck, I could immediately see the hound bitch was grievously injured. She was crying loudly with that hollow, mournful bay that coonhounds are known for. She was attempting to walk, but could only balance on her forepaws because both of her rear legs were broken and she was screaming in confusion, fear and pain.
I ran to her to get her out of the road, picked her up by lifting her with one arm across her chest and the other under her butt. She did not try to bite or fight me. As I carried her to the SUV owner (who had hollered to me she was a vet) I could feel this dog's blood pouring onto my legs through my jeans. She was heavy, but I managed to get her to the rear of the vet's SUV. The vet had put a blanket on the ground for me to lay the bitch on. I held the dog's head while the vet did a quick, cursory inspection of her.
The vet called the phone number on the dog's collar, left a message on their answering machine and we loaded the dog into the rear of her car. She threw what parts of her car she could quickly retrieve into her back seat and rushed off to the local animal hospital.
I ended up changing out of my jeans on the side of the freeway. (I can only imagine what passing motorists thought about that strange woman on the passenger side of a Dodge pickup in her underbritches.)
Later in the week, I called the only animal hospital I could find listed in the area and they said they didn't have a record of any animals being admitted on Halloween. I can only assume the worst from this information.
I couldn't tell you why that gorgeous Coonhound bitch was in the middle of Southbound I-75. Dogs don't think when they escape. They just run. My heart still hurts like the devil thinking about how horribly that poor dog died…in tremendous pain, with nobody but strangers around her.