Blood

Today was hard. I saw a dog get hit by a car on the way home from school. She was carrying a puppy in her mouth and a car smashed into her, crushing the puppy and smashing the side of the mother’s head. I couldn’t do anything but watch in horror. The puppy was completely crushed beneath the wheels of the car and I can only hope that it was instant. The mother bled profusely out her jaw line as the bottom of her jaw was just hanging by a tiny piece of ligament or something and her rib cage was obviously smashed inwards. She stumbled toward me in total shock as I stood there completely helpless. I have blood on my shoes. I watched her die. She didn’t look at peace; she didn’t have the inner light that I always assumed would comfort in the last few seconds of life. I have her blood on my shoes. She stared at me with complete terror as I tried to reach out in any way possible to comfort her while her blood flowed down the murky stream of water that collects near the edge of the roads. After she died, a shop owner dragged her toward the street dumpster across the way to be discarded with the left over vegetable scraps and plastic bags. The puppy continued to be run over until its body was almost one with the dirt road when I checked from my balcony 10 minutes ago. I can’t stop crying. I have something that, less than 24 hours ago, supplied the life force to a breathing creature on my shoes. She was terrified and I couldn’t do anything except stare back.