My dogs, Blackie and Sweetie, got out of the fence and were hit by a car this morning. I am absolutely sick at my stomach. I don't know how to describe how I'm feeling.
Andy saw them on his way to work, and came home and woke me up to tell me. We went and picked them up, and buried them. Judging from the freshness of the wounds, they could only have been dead just a few minutes before Andy found them. If he hadn't overslept slightly he might have seen it happen. I can't imagine how that would have been for him. It was bad enough just having to pick them up and carry them home, and dig a grave, and bury them. I wasn't much help - Blackie was too big for me to lift, and I'm wimpy and slow with a shovel. I dug a little, until Andy got impatient watching me and took the shovel back. So mostly I stood and watched and cried.
I'm beyond angry. Whoever hit them did it deliberately, out of utter meanness. They were well off the road, about 50 feet apart, with a nice set of swerve marks heading up to Blackie. Good thing I'm not in charge of the judgement, because whoever it was would roast in hell for that one.
Aside from all that, I feel indescribably guilty. We have had problems keeping Blackie home for years. Anytime it rained, he'd freak out and escape, taking one or all of the others with him. They'd come home a few hours after the storm ended, or I'd go out looking for them and eventually drag them home. As often as not, they'd end up at our neighbor's house eating his cats' food, and he'd bring them home for me. Anytime I see a dog on the side of the road, I think how the owner is culpable for not keeping their dog home. And now that's me. I am beating myself up, thinking of the things I didn't try, namely, keeping my dogs inside. I mean, what were our options, really? I suppose I didn't have any besides what we were doing. Even drugs didn't help his anxiety. I'm making myself sick worrying about it, more so because I know that it's too late now.
Do I sound miserable? Because I am. Blackie was such a good dog. He and Jaxom loved each other. Sweetie was not the easiest dog in the world; she bit anyone who came near her, but it wasn't really her fault. She was my grandmother's coddled pet, and then when she came here she was noticeably homesick and miserable. Plus she hated most people and especially kids because my little cousins harassed her to no end. I could handle her a little, but not bathe or medicate her. Basically we were letting her just live out her days here. That was an awful way to go, though.
Ugh.
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wakeful dreamer