Saturday, May 26, 2007
Yesterday morning, Friday, May 25th, 2007, at approximately 6:53 a.m., I ran over my dog JoJo, the geriatric Beagle/German shepherd cross who had up until that very time been alive on this planet for almost fifteen years.
I would like to say the blame is shared – part senior moment on my end, part senior moment on hers (she was, after all, extremely old for a dog, half blind, almost completely deaf, arthritic, and suffering from “doggie dementia”). I couldn’t have been doing more than a couple miles an hour, trudging up the steep hill that is our driveway. Perhaps JoJo simply tripped and fell in front of the wheel. But really, I’m fully at fault. I’m the human. It is my job to look out for her, not the other way around.
I cannot fully express just how dark and horrible an event this was. And still is. I still feel sick to my stomach. I still feel like I committed murder. I still feel like someone stuck their hand right through my chest and ripped out my heart.
But there’s nothing that can be done. All I can do is remember that prior to my senior moment, JoJo had lived not only a long life, but also a good one, filled with fun and love.
We always said that JoJo was really a person in a dog suit, hoping her entire life that NEXT time around she would get to come back as a simply fabulous human being. I’m certain that she will. S.B. and I will be on the lookout . . .