As we passed Statesville, the car in front of us swerved to the left. I had this new truck and was particularly alert. There was a large dog, German shepherd mix it seemed, in the highway. I was able to miss it (didn’t want to damage the new truck). But I looked in the rear view mirror to see the cube van behind me (not as nimble, don’t you know) catch the dog on its right bumper. It was like seeing a huge balloon full of red paint bursting. It quite literally tore the dog in half.
“A good omen,” I said. “This is going to be a grand trip.”
Indeed, as we arrived at Grayson Highlands, the sun was full in the sky, no rain clouds in sight, and we had a great day of tromping across the roof of Virginia. What a day!
2 comments:
OW, the poor dog. Nice description tho'. I've seen similar carnage along the Mass T-Pike. Large scenes of carnage with a distinct fur color that can only be canine.
I wrote that after a bad experience with a dog. As a thrice-bitten letter carrier, my patience with large, pack-oriented, territorial and aggressive canines was run dry that day.
What is surprising, despite my dozens upon dozens of nasty confrontations with vicious dogs, is that I still like the critters. I don't have one living with me, but I often enjoy the company of friendly dogs whom I meet. There's not many things nicer than stopping to visit with a happy dog who obviously enjoys your company.
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