Tuesday, April 28, 2009

Road kill

Driving up to Gainesville on Sunday I spotted an all too common sight, a dog lying dead on the side of the road. This particular dog looked like a shepherd mix of the sort that I might have fostered. He was probably someone's well-loved pet. It's a sight that fills me with both sadness and anger. And resolve.

I know that shit happens. Bad things happen to good dogs and to good dog owners. No one is perfect and some dogs seem to go out of their way to endanger themselves, having little or no common sense or instinct for self-preservation. But I also know that many such tragedies could be avoided.

I know that an unneutered dog who gets the scent of a female in estrus in the springtime will abandon any little bit of common sense that he has and will follow that scent with only the nose and testicles engaged to guide him. I know that a dog left unattended outside without any sort of fence will become bored and will wander. I know that what seems like a long and therefore safe distance to a road to us, is nothing but a hop, skip, and a jump to a dog. I know that some dogs are smart about human dangers, and others require our protection.

So I remember dogs like this one when someone tells me that they can't bear to have their dog neutered. I will remember him when someone else tells me that they don't need a fence because they live in the country. I will sure remember him when someone comes wanting another dog because their last one got killed on the road and they just want another to try again.

My first German Shepherd Dog was a solid black female named Sasha, (pictured above, and to the left with a much younger me). She was the smartest shepherd I've ever known. I realized just how smart she was one day when I heard her crying as if she was hurt. I came running, of course, to find her lying in her usual spot looking out the sliding glass door onto our deck. She wasn't crying because she was hurt, she was simply making the noise that would summon me in the fastest way possible, not for herself, but because our cat, Shooz, was scratching at the door, wanting to come in. I realized I had been tricked by the dog, perhaps in conspiracy with the cat. Reflecting on it further, I came to the conclusion that I had not been tricked so much as trained.

Now, when I see a dead dog (or cat) lying on the road, I ask Sasha to make certain that someone comes to let the dog into Doggie Heaven. I know she can make it happen.

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