Long ago, when I was perhaps 12 or so, my family had been given an adult German Shepherd called Duchess. We lived in a rural area with a nature preserve behind our house and I’d go for long rides on my horse with Duchess joining along. Our home was on a busy two-lane road, with one of the fewer straight stretches passing our property. Cars often sped through this stretch.
I was returning from a ride one day and as I always did, we came out of the nature preserve a bit down the road from home. As we were walking alongside the road toward our driveway and the barn, a car sped by and hit Duchess, tossing her body up the road. The car never even tapped the brakes, just continued speeding up the road.
I began screaming and my horse became very unsettled. I dismounted and walked her home to tell my father, tears streaming down my face. He got the station wagon and went to get Duchess. He returned with her wrapped in a blanket and carried her into a wooded area to bury her.
I’m nearly 70 now and I’ve never forgotten it. I wish my father had written this letter.
this happened to my family's Newfoundland many years ago, on Christmas Eve. My father wept as he dug a grave for our beloved dog, in the rain, on Christmas Eve. It was a very quiet Christmas as my siblings and their children arrived. The neighbor never admitted what they did, but we knew.
Wow. I get it. I know those people who own the roads and everything else. Except a conscience. It's one reason I'm happy I don't drive in West Los Angeles, Malibu, or Santa Monica anymore. It's one reason I'm happy I don't live in that area anymore. Sadly, there are plenty of those killers on the roads.
Huh, still valid to this day this story. I hope we all get that chance to slow down and live while we can. Vicky brought joy in all her days unconditionally … cherish every moment
Long ago, when I was perhaps 12 or so, my family had been given an adult German Shepherd called Duchess. We lived in a rural area with a nature preserve behind our house and I’d go for long rides on my horse with Duchess joining along. Our home was on a busy two-lane road, with one of the fewer straight stretches passing our property. Cars often sped through this stretch.
I was returning from a ride one day and as I always did, we came out of the nature preserve a bit down the road from home. As we were walking alongside the road toward our driveway and the barn, a car sped by and hit Duchess, tossing her body up the road. The car never even tapped the brakes, just continued speeding up the road.
I began screaming and my horse became very unsettled. I dismounted and walked her home to tell my father, tears streaming down my face. He got the station wagon and went to get Duchess. He returned with her wrapped in a blanket and carried her into a wooded area to bury her.
I’m nearly 70 now and I’ve never forgotten it. I wish my father had written this letter.
A beautiful response to a horrible thing. My own letter would read a little closer to Liam Neeson's speech in Taken...
this happened to my family's Newfoundland many years ago, on Christmas Eve. My father wept as he dug a grave for our beloved dog, in the rain, on Christmas Eve. It was a very quiet Christmas as my siblings and their children arrived. The neighbor never admitted what they did, but we knew.
Wow. I get it. I know those people who own the roads and everything else. Except a conscience. It's one reason I'm happy I don't drive in West Los Angeles, Malibu, or Santa Monica anymore. It's one reason I'm happy I don't live in that area anymore. Sadly, there are plenty of those killers on the roads.
Never has any substack column reduced me to a sobbing mess. as this one has done. I hope karma found the culprit, even though the police never did.
Beautiful and deeply touching, certain to resonate with anyone who's ever lost -- or simply loved -- a furry baby.
Huh, still valid to this day this story. I hope we all get that chance to slow down and live while we can. Vicky brought joy in all her days unconditionally … cherish every moment