What an interesting week it's been. We went up to northern Virginia for Christmas. The trip is always really long and painful, with my husband flipping the radio stations every few seconds in search of something better. That...and listening to the same episode of Prairie Home Companion twice for 8+ hours is like water torture.
Before we were even 30 minutes out of Charleston, I was looking down at my iphone, because I am addicted to technology, and the car swerved violently, and I looked up startled. I saw a King Charles Spaniel crossing interstate 26. And I have to say I was a little freaked out. Thankfully we watched the dog get to the side of the highway without incident...at least until we were out of sight...
Four hours later, a little more than halfway through the trip, we were cruising along on I-95, when again the car swerved a bit, not quite as much as the time before, and this time, I saw a GERMAN SHEPARD PUPPY in the middle of I-95 as we zipped by at 85 miles per hour. The puppy was probably a little over a year old, and he stood up and sat back down, unsure of what to do as the cars sped past. And what flashed through my mind was that we needed to do something...call the police to come get him...something. And my husband said the police wouldn't do anything. I'm not sure if they would have or not. It was a busy travel day and I'm sure they had their hands full and wouldn't want to catch a dog in the median of 95 with cars speeding past on either side, as the dog would most likely cause a much more major accident, risking people's lives, and not just his own. So we continued on. And the thought of that dog stuck in the middle of I-95 haunted me. I didn't tell anyone because I didn't want to field the question of 'why didn't you do something?' But what was I to do? I told my husband if we saw ONE MORE DOG that needed help we weren't going to drive by again.
The holidays with my husband's family was really nice, as was seeing all of the amazing friends we could fit into the short period of time we were there. We were supposed to get back on the road the day after Christmas, but instead I woke up at 5:30am with the stomach flu, and there was no way I could sit in the car for over 8 hours in the midst of a snow storm with the stomach flu. So we stayed. And I slept during the waves of time my stomach settled, pretty miserable the entire day.
We got back on the road on December 27th, a day late, but the snow was gone, as was the horrible traffic, which made the trip back to South Carolina much easier. And my husband got me 'Water for Elephants' on CD, a book I had read and loved, loved, loved, to listen to on the way back. The time flew by in the car not flipping through the stations.
We didn't stop until we saw a sign for Subway, which happened to be in Kenly, North Carolina. Oh, but right before we stopped I saw the dead German Sheppard puppy on the left side of 95 at the edge of the median, his eyes closed like he was taking a long nap. I said nothing and my stomach churned with the large amount of guilt I felt for not doing anything the week before.
We went inside Subway and picked up our lunch, and as we were in Subway, people started saying 'whose dog is that?' We went to the window to look out and saw a yellow lab walking around the parking lot. Someone in the shop said 'I saw that dog walking on a leash about an hour ago. I guess the owner left?' We opened the door to get in our car just as the big dog laid down in front of a car that was pulling out of the parking lot.
He just laid there as the car started and then stopped sharply, almost running him over.
I ran over to him with a few other people to try to get him out of the road. He had a collar with no tag, no phone number, and I stood there hemming and hawing a bit over what to do. I told my husband we couldn't leave him there. No one else seemed to be willing to help. So I called the SPCA. They were closed. The only other option was to load him in our packed car and see if someone at the police station would help. They were also closed.
So we decided that we would take him back to Charleston and decide what was best, perhaps taking him to the SPCA there but my own mind was convincing me otherwise as I thought about the consequences if he didn't get picked up by his owners.
- To be continued in Part 2 -
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