Hope everyone had a nice Thanksgiving and ate turkey without glass in it. Now, on with the woe…

This happened about a week ago. If you are an animal lover, I warn you. This is not a happy story.

It was Friday afternoon, and I had just got off work. I was in my car, driving south and obeying the speed limit (35 mph). I called my friend–via a hands-free cellular device–as I was to meet up with her later. I got her voice mail and began to leave my message:

Hey, it’s Mike. I just got off of work, and I’m in my car, heading home. It’s about 5:07pm. I’m hatless, repeat hatless. Anyway, just wanted to know if you…

Then it happened. A small, short-haired dog ran in front of my car. I hit the brakes. I even swerved a little. But it was too late. I heard a thump before I could stop my car.

I looked in the rear view mirror. The street behind me was empty. No cars and, more importantly, no dog. And I was still leaving my message:

Whoah! Oh, my God. I can’t believe it. Son-of-a-bitch. I just ran over a small animal. I just hit a dog. Oh, man. I can’t believe it. This, this is ridiculous. Unbelievable. I…I can’t. Oh, man…just…just call me back.

Or something like that. Eventually, while I was on the freeway, my friend called back. I confirmed what had just happened. I felt terrible. She asked me if I had stopped, and told her how had I slowed down but didn’t see the dog. She said she hoped the dog wasn’t stuck under my car. I hadn’t thought of that. Oh, God, I thought, as I hung up.

Driving to my destination, I imagined the dog stuck under my front axle, dragging along the road at 70 mph. Finally, when I reached my friends’ apartment, I checked all around the car and underneath it. Nothing. No damage, no blood, no small dog. It was a relief, for sure, but I was still sad nonetheless. I went inside their apartment, hung my head, went to the fridge, and grabbed a beer.