Tuesday, September 4, 2012
How I Ended Up with Blood on my Hands before 7am
So I'm headed to the gym, just like I do every morning, get in the car--out of gas. Hmmm...do you ever have one of those days where subconsciously you want to consciously turn the car around, crawl back into bed, and just pray for a do-over? Well that was the feeling I had, but hey, cars need gas to go. I finish up, head down the highway to town and see this thing in the rode...cah-clump. Oh no! Pretty sure that was a dead deer in the road that I completely ran over. So I stop and inspect for damage, call J and ask what to do. He suggests going back to make sure it was dead. As I pull up beside it, I see its a fawn (a baby deer with the spots and everything), and then I see the momma and daddy deer looking at me like "you ran over my baby!" Eeek! As I am stopped, I see another car hit and drag it even farther. Oh no. I guess whoever hit it before me, didn't quite kill it--but I did. So J says well, you could push it off to the side of the rode so it doesn't get drug around and people keep hitting it. Ok--sure, I can do this. Oh no I can't do it! Oh yes I can! So this little guy was still warm. My heart was just breaking at this point. Yes I understand the cycle of life and deer are wild animals, but this one was right in front of me and died a horrible death...not pleasant at 6:45 in the morning. So I'm pushing it off the road and the little hairs and blood are getting all over my hands. I'm not usually squeamish, but this a little too close to that breaking point. The little guy goes over and I get back in my car--and where are the Lysol wipes--oh they're gone. All the way to the gym with hairy bloody hands and a tear-streaked face...I'm sure I looked like a mass-murderer or something.