Monday, June 11, 2001

In My Life


Pet owner needed help with her loss

By Kathy Roberts

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Roberts
        Without commenting on the nature of things, I think this experience speaks for itself.

        With my two small children in the car, I decided to take a short cut down Eastern Avenue. Traffic suddenly slowed down, and as I approached the cause of the delay, I saw a dog lying in the road in the opposite lane. The cars were swerving around the obviously injured dog, while a woman rushed to him. Almost instantly, I pulled over.

        I left my children in their car seats, I crossed the traffic, and I knelt beside the woman and the dog. She was very shaken, and she said, “I think he's dying.”

THE AUTHOR
  Kathy Roberts, 33, lives in Columbia Tusculum with her husband, Carroll, and son, Chance, 2 1/2 and daughter, Sunny, 1 1/2. She is a former high school teacher.
        We both knelt over the dog for another moment and watched the dog take its last breath. I asked her, “Is he your dog?” The woman tearfully explained that he was, and that he never runs into the street.

        Then she asked, “What should I do?”

        At this point I was crying too. I saw she also had an infant in his car seat. My heart sank further at the memory of how difficult those first few months are with a new baby, and now she had to endure this.

No one stopped

               As I stood crying over the dog,I was uncomfortable with the traffic weaving around me. Car after truck after van; no one stopped. Realizing I had to somehow handle this immediate situation, I concluded aloud that we had to move the dog. The woman tried several times, but she could not bring herself to touch him. Finally I said, “Don't worry, I'll get the dog. Is there someplace I can put him?”

        I carefully picked up the dog, and she directed me to her side yard where I gently laid down its body.

        We both stood there weeping, while I instructed her to call her vet to see if they knew of someone who could take the dog. Not knowing what else I could do, I hugged her, and tearfully told her how sorry I was for her loss.

        As I approached the street to go back to my car and my children sitting patiently in their car seats, it took me a moment to cross the street because traffic had picked back up. As I climbed back in my car I felt utterly depressed, but I also knew that I was a richer person having stopped.

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        • E-mail: Nancy Berlier, Deputy Features Editor, at nberlier@enquirer.com.
        • Mail: In My Life, Tempo, Cincinnati Enquirer, 312 Elm St., Cincinnati 45202
        • Fax: (513) 768-8330.



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