Just as I was getting ready to rant about the Denver sports radio talk on the Kyle Orton-Tim Tebow controversy on Wednesday, I got a little sidetracked.
As is the case every night that I am visiting my wife, Teresa, in the Colorado Acute Long Term Hospital in Denver, I make a food run (after she has eaten her hospital food). I think you know why. Besides, I have to eat.
Driving to Burger King up Sheridan Ave. to try out the BK Minis, a little dog is hit by a car at a very busy rush-hour intersection.
Just a minute before the accident, while stopped at the stoplight, I saw the dog, which is some sort of Terrier/Poodle mix, cross the street on the crosswalk. My first thought was that the dog itself pushed the button and waited for the walk sign to go on. The dog walked across the street with ease.
Getting out of my car in the Burger King parking lot, I hear a dog yelp and a person scream. I knew right then what had happened. The dog backtracked and tried to cross the busy intersection again. This time it wasn't so lucky.
I went to the intersection looking for the dog, just as two other men had, along with the distraught man and wife who accidentally hit the dog. I was expecting the worst.
The little dog was still alive but scared and limping badly, hiding in a bush by the BK parking lot. As we got closer, it moved to hide under a car. We couldn't get it to come out and it ran through the parking lot and up a sidewalk to some apartments.
It now appeared to be running normal, which was a relief. Yet, I know there's always a chance of internal injuries when an animal is hit by a car, so myself and another man went to look for it. The man and wife who hit the dog said they lived about five minutes away and would call the police and animal control. The poor lady was in tears; her husband said she is an animal lover. You can only imagine how she felt..
Just then about 10 kids and a lady came around the corner asking if we had lost a dog. Still scared, it ran into a yard and right into an apartment through an open front door. While they could speak English, the man in the apartment could not. They were able to translate to him what I was telling them, that the dog was hit by a car and the police had been called.
I went back to Burger King and got my food, with one eye on the parking lot, waiting for the police to arrive. They did about 10 minutes later and I was able to get an officer, who stood about 6-foot-5, burly and bald, to the house.
“Hola,” the man said as we approached his door. “Hola,” the officer responded. The man pointed to the dog who was obviously still scared but content to hide in the corner, although no one there had seen the dog before.
I left as the officer went to get the dog, barely stopping myself from following him into the apartment when I realized it was not my place to go in.
I'm guessing and hoping that the dog is OK. Hopefully, the dog is identified and it's owner is notified. There's no worse feeling for a pet owner when their pet disappears. Believe me, I know.
My 14-year-old Rat Terrier, Barney, went for a late-night walk about eight years ago and never came home. The Laramie Police Department dispatcher told me the next day that a small black and white dog was hit about two blocks from my apartment. I knew it was Barney. The person who hit him said he staggered to his feet after the impact and wandered into an open field. Barney had heart trouble, so I know he just went away to die. But never knowing for sure has bothered me to this day.
I'm also hoping that the man and woman who accidentally hit the dog knows that it will be OK and it wasn't their fault.
About a year ago when our Pug, Otis, had died, I took his body to the veterinarian. It was the Fourth of July and the office was closed. They opened for me and when I arrived two more cars pulled in with another dog that was critically injured when it chased a car and was hit when the driver didn't see it. The anguish on the man's face who hit the dog is something I will never forget. Even though the dog's owners were understanding and forgiving, it was little consolation to that man.
By now I'm thinking that Teresa is probably worried about me, as a 15-minute run for some burgers has taken about an hour. I turn up the radio and the sports talk is still about Orton and Tebow.
I turn the radio off.
Who starts at quarterback for the Broncos, at least for the time being, is the furthest from my mind.
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