Hairy ride

I spent the last week on Vancouver Island. I went up to be another pair of hands to help out Mum and Dad last week, so I did no touristy things, and only a couple "I'm back home and like to do this when I'm back" things.

We left late yesterday and got off the ferry at Tsawassen at 5:20 PM. We actually cleared the US border at 6:20, and were heading back south. We experienced no obvious Olympics-related delays, for which I am very grateful.

A couple miles from home, I came around a left turn and Ames shouted "Look out!" There was a small black dog (Shi-Tsu? I don't know, but short, furry, and black) standing in the rain in the middle of the road, in the dark, where there aren't any street lights. I slammed on the brakes and stopped just short of hitting the dog. But he panicked and jumped straight in front of the oncoming traffic.

The oncoming car hit him. I saw it briefly, but definitely heard it.

So I pulled over and ran back to check the dog. He was lying whimpering in the road. The woman in the car behind mine had stopped right there, and was already at the dog. She scooped him up, checked the tag, and told me to get a cell phone. So I ran back to my car, got the cell phone, and headed back.

"Call 911," she said.

"911?"

"Yeah, 911!"

I thought she meant for the dog, until I saw the woman lying in the ditch.

Apparently one of the people in the car that had actually hit the dog had gotten out to check on him. The ditch is very deep and there aren't any street lights there: she misstepped, fell right into the ditch and busted up her leg. She was sure it was broken, I didn't know and didn't want to poke and prod when I'm unsure what I'm doing.

So there we are: we've got a dog that's at least got a broken leg, and was apparently bleeding from the mouth. There is a woman in her 50s lying in the bottom of the ditch with a broken leg, and it's raining.

The paramedics did arrive. They got the woman in the ditch onto a stretcher and into the ambulance. She was conscious and lucid the whole time, but I'm not sure what that means.

The woman living right there called about the dog and ended up with someone from the humane society. She and her husband/boyfriend/partner were to take him to an emergency vet, who'd be able to contact the owner via the dog's tag. I assume she got there all right, they were getting ready to leave when I drove off.

The son of the woman in the ditch had been driving: he left to follow the ambulance.


So that was a pretty rotten end of a long trip home.


As my mother would say, "Well glory be!"