The car in front of me threw this dog on highway onto the median at 60 mph. I watched it happen. I’m still shaking as I type this.
Then the passenger door opened.
At first I thought something fell out. A bag. A piece of trash. Something that tumbled and bounced on the pavement.
A dog. Medium-sized. Brown. Hit the asphalt at highway speed and rolled. I watched her body tumble across the lane like a ragdoll until she hit the concrete median and stopped.
The dog was maybe thirty yards ahead on the median. Lying on her side. Not moving.
I thought she was dead.
Getting to her meant crossing a lane of highway traffic on foot during rush hour. Every rational part of my brain said don’t. Call animal control. Call 911. Let someone with equipment handle this.
She looked at me. And even after what had just been done to her. Even after being thrown from a car by the people who were supposed to love her. Even lying there broken on the highway.
She tried to wag her tail.
One small movement. Just the tip. Then it stopped.
That’s when I lost it. Right there on the median of a six-lane highway with trucks shaking the ground beneath me.
I called 911. Told them where I was. Told them to send anyone. An ambulance. Animal control. Anyone.
