Roadside Fail

Today I had a choice.  And for the first time, I made the right one.  About this, anyway.

another one bites the dust

Your dog’s up near the road, the neighbor worker told Kendra.  I saw her up along side it, and whistled for her to come home.

She didn’t usually go beyond our yard when we let her off her line.  We only let her off while one of us is out, and on a day like today, we weren’t about to stay in.  We had the whole day to ourselves.  For school, for farming, and for play.

She started walking nearer, alongside the road, when suddenly I see her turn, take a few steps, and stop smack in the middle of the lane.

Silly dog.  I’ll go get her.

When I look away from Jade for only that second to watch Adyn as he starts down the driveway toward her — BAM!

Oh no.

I see the car pull over.

No, no, no!

I start hustling after Adyn, yelling “Don’t go!  Adyn, do not go out there!”  I don’t want him to see this.  I break into a run.

How did this stretch of road get so long?

Halfway there, I pick up a Ford emblem, knowing instantly it belongs on the car.

When I reached Jade, she was clearly gone.  I was relieved.  For her.  For me.  I kept walking.  The small glance I took told me she was very intact, with no obvious exterior wounds.

Grateful

I wasn’t brave enough to look more.  I kept walking, now exhausted of running – losing umph to hurry.

As I approach the car, I asked if the driver was okay.  She said yes.  I went around front and saw that her license plate was banged up, her griddle had a small bent piece, her emblem snapped off, but not a scratch elsewhere.

Relief.

I went back.  The driver was crying, apologizing.  I told her she was okay, her car was okay, and our family is safe.  That’s all that matters.

Life is okay.

I kept reassuring her… As much as we love our dog, even in the short time we’ve had her, I was so thankful that it wasn’t a person, and that she herself was okay.

We exchanged numbers.  I hollered at our neighbor – who just so happened to be getting her mail – to fetch her siblings to help, giving her the face of seriousness.  She hustled toward home.

The driver was really shaken up, apologizing and crying and telling stories of her dogs, and how much she knew we must love ours.  I apologized back, noting that it was not her fault at all.  That things happen.  That Jade doesn’t usually stray, and should have been closer to home.

I kept my cool.

In the face of urgency, I’m usually rock solid.  It’s after that I collapse.  I’ve learned this through several hard moments (some longer than others) in my life.

The driver offered to help drag Jade (so thankful that her body landed on the side of the road instead of in it), or drive me home, or …  I let her know we’d have it handled.  I gave her a reassuring hug and arm squeeze that said it’s okay.  I told her to not stress, to get safely home, and to follow up with me on her car repairs.  She cried and said goodbye.  I started walking away from her car, toward Jade.

Just then, our neighbor returned with several in tow.

And then I was toast.

I’ve had to be brave in times I didn’t think I could, but this time I walked toward Jade fearing I wouldn’t be able to bolster bravado if

What if she’s not dead, but massively injured?

or on the seemingly miles long walk toward the car initially:

What if the car is damaged, or worse
What if the driver is hurt?

I couldn’t help but be thankful, reiterating to the driver and our neighbors that it couldn’t have been more perfect, if it had to happen.  Jade was off the road, not a mess.  The drivers car was minimally hurt, herself physically spared.  It was a dog.  A beautiful, wonderful, most well behaved, loved dog.  But not a human.  Floods of relief.  And a freakishly painful warning.

Our neighbors came and wrapped me in their arms.  I bawled like a baby.  I couldn’t stop.  They told me they would take care of it from me, and walked me home.

There are times in my life that I cannot express how grateful I am.  This was one of them.  Scott wasn’t home from work.  I couldn’t see how I’d get her body back home.  And I didn’t know how to dig a big enough hole (or where) without my kids haven’t too many images and memories of it.  Scott usually handles this part of hard things.

I went in and had to be the bearer of bad news to Colby, who had missed the whole thing.  Scott got home shortly after.

All new buckets of tears.

We spent the next half hour snuggling in bed, Kendra, Colby and I.  Flynn was napping, and Adyn was helping his Dad.  Ugh, I could have handled this better (I think) had I not had to watch the whole thing play out.

And so just like that we’re dog-less again.  I try not to be superstitious, but we said when we first moved here:  We never want to lose an animal to a road.  And the fact is, enjoying the “perfect place” for a farm stand comes with that hazard.  Even that likelihood.  Ugh.

Here’s where we get back to the part about me making a good choice for once… For a brief moment or two (multiple times), I started down the should have’s.

I should have kept a better eye on her
I should have kept her tied up
I shouldn’t have called her over and distracted her
should have…
No.

So I stopped.  I chose not to.

It is what it is.  It was an accident.  Things happen.  My old style would be to start stacking things up: this is the second dog we’ve lost in two months… maybe it’s a sign… everything is so hard… what does it mean?!

But not this time.  This time I kept reminding myself of something I recently read that smacked me in the face: Stop listening to yourself and instead talk to yourself.

I have a family history of delving into the black.  I don’t want that trend to continue with me, as it started showing a pattern of a couple of years ago.

So I told myself what I told my kids: What good can we get out of this?

Well, for one, I am SO thankful that she died lickity split.  I’m SO thankful she went to the side of the road.  That she was whole.  That the car was barely thunked.  That the driver was okay.  That it wasn’t one of my kids.  That my neighbors… Well, I don’t even know what to say about them.  They have been so incredible from the start (us moving here).  I’ve got to share – thankfully not relating to a dog dying.

After we moved in, I gave a few of their kidlets grief for not having come over more often.  Of course, we didn’t have a phone for – literally – weeks, or internet for a long while either.  So there was no real easy way to ask without intruding.  Since knocking is, after all, pretty much an I’m here… you better have a good excuse if I need to go away… 

Their answer to my poke at them for not spending more time with us?  Proverbs 25:17:

Seldom set foot in your neighbor’s house – too much of you, and they will hate you.  NIV
Don’t visit your neighbors too often, or you will wear out your welcome.  NLT

They were purposefully trying to give us space for our family.

Blew my mind.

We both had established some boundaries early on, before we moved, mainly because our littles would want to live with each other, semi-jesting.  You know, things like: don’t come knocking before 9:30am, but you can stay ’til midnight.  Those kinds of things.  Silly things, but good to say up front.  But this response on their part really knocked it out of the park.

I explained they were welcome anytime, but that we really appreciated it (and a heads up).  I love that their hearts are so loving and thoughtful make our time together even richer.

And then they go and take care of my dead dog.

No words.