Space estimated my travel time at 1.5 hours but I knew that it would be at least double that owing to my habit of stopping to take photos often. I had already stopped to take shots a couple of times; typical stuff like flowers and fishermen. Rounding one of the many corners the Kodak moments came to an end when I saw a dead puppy in the middle of the opposite lane. A truck had passed me a few moments earlier going the other way; maybe it had killed the dog. I kept riding down the road but I was consumed with the gruesome thought of another truck coming around that corner and running over the dog’s body. I wouldn’t have turned around for any other small animal (well, maybe a cat, but it would have to have one hell of a personality), but I couldn’t let the puppy suffer any further humiliation.
I rode the short distance back and parked on the opposite side of the road keeping in mind the potential for irony in getting killed while trying to move the body of a dog that had been killed…while riding a motorcycle I had named the Irony Horse. There wasn’t any blood, but the puppy look rough; he wasn’t breathing and was completely still. That is until I was right beside him. He opened his eyes, got up very slowly and walked to the other side of the road. The dog was sickly and weak, but he hadn’t been hit by a truck.
“Holy shit! You’re alive!” I said aloud. However, deep inside myself I knew that this particular dog might have been better off under the wheels of a truck. Eyes cloudy, hardly able to walk and infested with mange; his death would be certain, slow and painful - a greater indignity than any truck could ever inflict.
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