Sunday, June 22, 2008

The Innocent

This weekend has been a bad one. Four days of work filled with cases and people who have ensured I work hard for every cent I get paid. Four days which convince me I do not get paid enough by any means. It has been a long weekend, an exhausting weekend and I cannot be happy enough to be finished.

Tonight, while driving The Guy home after supper, I saw a little gopher trying to cross the road. He darted quickly from one side at breakneck speeds in front of traffic. Too late he saw the car and panicked. He stopped and backtracked. You could see the wheels in his mind turning, desperate to get out of his situation and powerless to do anything about the inevitable. He lunged in front of the car again in an attempt to make the distance safely. He fell, tripping under the carriage of the car, spun and dropped to the ground. The car continued on ahead likely unaware of the drama unfolding in front of it.

It was mere seconds that passed as I watched horrified. I slammed on the breaks and screamed, "No! No! No!" I started to hyperventilate and didn't know what to do. My hands gripped the steering wheel until my fingers became numb. I watched his little body die a slow and violent death on the side of the road. Cars were coming up behind me, so I reluctantly started to drive again. Tears were brimming in my eyes and I could hardly see.

The Guy didn't know what had gone on to make me stop the car in the middle of the road. I explained about the little gopher, but he had not seen it. We drove on in silence while I grieved the painful death of an animal best known for being roadkill. I'm not sure The Guy knew why I was so upset. I'm not sure if I knew.


  1. Dear dear daughter, I understand only too well how you feel. I hate to see anything injured or anything die unnecessarily. You area bsolutely right with your title, The Innocent. Innocent animals, innocent people, innocent children. Why does anyone or anything have to die before its time?

  2. I figured you would understand. Softy.


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