Appreciating What You Have

I know that my postings have been sporadic to say the least. Sometimes it's because I don't feel like writing. Sometimes it's because I don't want to write about things that may not be going well. Other times it's just because I'm too busy, or I just don't have anything tow rite about.

Today there are plenty of things I can write about. I could write about the trip that Ben and I took to California. I can write about the recent re-shaving of my dog. Or maybe the bike ride that Ben and I took this weekend (lots of fun, a bike is a great way to see Folly Beach).

However, those I'll write about in another post.

You see, on my way to WalMart this morning, I was involved in something that made me cry (yeah, I know, big shock), and really thank the Heavens for everything that I have. You see, sometime during the night, someone hit a dog out on Folly Road, and left him for dead. As I was just passing the Piggly Wiggly, I noticed a shape in the "suicide lane." Another woman, driving the other way noticed it as just about the same time. Realizing that it was a dog, both of us stopped, and ventured out into the middle of the road like lunatics. As the other woman (I believe her name was Tracy) called the veterinarian listed on the dog's Rabies tag, I got down on my hands and knees to see if he was still breathing. Maybe it's the optimist in me hoping and praying that we weren't too late, but I swore I saw some shallow breaths raise his tummy JUST a little bit.

As I was getting ready to help Tracy (?) lift the dog and put him in her van (he wouldn't have fit in my car), another woman pulled up in a little Mercedes. She pulled out a trash bag to wrap around the dog, and in her business suit and heels ran out into the middle of the road, mascara streaming down her face, to help us.

The dog died before we could get him into Tracy's van. As I knelt there on Folly Road with my hand on a stranger's dog's chest, feeling what I think was his last breath, I cried. Actually, I bawled. But I know I did the right thing by stopping. The strange dog, having lain there for Lord only knows how long - in the rain no less - died surrounded by the love of three strangers. Not only that, but Tracy was still going to bring him to the vet so that his family could claim him if they wished.

All I could think of was my Coda-bear at home, sitting there on the kitchen floor, probably staring at the door waiting for his momma to come home. I could just imagine the fear he would feel if he were that dog, and hope that somebody would stop and help him too.

I'll post again later, and I promise, it will be happier...