Some days start like any other day. You wake up, get dressed, get the keys, go out. There is no music in the car. Just the low hum of the engine and the heat of a summer that is not yet official, but already burning. “Eight, the 08:00 dog.”
The sky is not even completely clear yet. Everything smells like a dry field.
I had to get to Bàscara before eight o’clock. The girls were coming on the bus and I knew they would arrive asleep, cranky, and hungry. I liked that little ritual. Going to pick them up. Laughing. Talk about anything unimportant.
It was 07:44.
Then, the world broke apart.
A lump crossed the road. Small, dirty, with a clumsy body. He came from the fields on the left. He went straight to the other side, without looking, without understanding.
I braked. Or tried to.
THUMP!
It wasn’t a loud noise. It was like crushing a ripe fruit. The car shook and stood still.
I sat there, hands firmly on the steering wheel, with no air in my lungs. I didn’t know whether to open the door or turn back time.
I went downstairs.
There it was.
A puppy. Twisted paws. A trickle of blood coming out of the muzzle. But alive. Trembling. Staring at me.
It did not bark. It just breathed in bits and pieces, as if every breath was borrowed.
-No… no, please… -I whispered without knowing to whom.
I wrapped the old blanket from the trunk around him. The body let itself be held, as if it had already decided to surrender.
I took out my cell phone.
-Judith, it’s me.
-What’s wrong?
-I ran over a little dog. I didn’t see it. It came out of nowhere. It’s very bad.
-Where are you?
-Road to Bàscara.
-Bring it now. I’m at the clinic.
The ride was like floating. The car was on its own. The puppy in my lap barely moved. Sometimes a whimper, sometimes nothing. At one point I thought he had died. I stopped. I stroked his ear. He wagged his tail a little.
-Hold on, little… Please…
Judith received it with firm hands. She carried it inside like one who carries dynamite: knowing that any movement could break it further.
-Does he have a name? he asked me without looking back.
-No…
-Let’s call him Ocho.
The following days were clinic and waiting. I had no obligation to go, but I went. I would sit in the empty white room, smelling of disinfectant and fodder. Judith would let me in for five minutes.
-He has not eaten.
-Does it hurt?
-We don’t know. He is sedated most of the time.
Sometimes he would open his eyes when I spoke to him.
-Hello, Ocho. It’s me. I’m still here. Don’t give up, baby. There’s still a lot of nice things. Cookies. Beaches. Shades of olive trees.
He said it in a calm voice, but inside he was broken. I didn’t sleep well. I would wake up imagining the blow. The body flying. The eyes…..
Early one morning, the message arrived.
“Come when you can. He’s very weak.”
I ran. Judith was waiting for me at the door.
He didn’t tell me anything.
He just shook his head. Very slowly.
-We tried,” he murmured, not letting me see his eyes, “but he didn’t… he didn’t want to go on.
I went inside.
Ocho was on a table, wrapped in the same blanket. He was no longer trembling. He seemed asleep. For a second, I almost smiled. Then, I disarmed myself.
I sat on the floor next to the stretcher.
-I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t slow down. I’m sorry I didn’t save you.
Minutes passed. Or maybe an hour. Outside, the clock read 08:02. The bus would have arrived in Bàscara by now. The girls would be waiting. But I was there. With Ocho.
Conclusion:
Some people say, “it was just a dog”.
They do not understand.
It wasn’t a dog. It was that dog. It was Duna. It was a life that crossed your path without asking permission. That looked at you once and broke you inside.
The worst nightmare for those who love animals is not losing one of their own.
It is not being able to save one who never had anyone.
From MasTorrencito we wish you a good day and may your dogs be with you!!!!
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