A terrible thing happened last night.
I was driving to a friends, it was overcast, and night time and the streets were pretty dark. I was on the road of the house I was visiting when out of nowhere, a small black object runs in front of my car.
I stop right there, run out, and there is this little dog who I have just brutally hit.
Dogs are my favourite animals in the world. I love animals – I would never hurt them.
The poor thing was whining really loudly and I could see he was in a lot of pain.
I’m patting the dog, trying to keep it calm and find a tag.
Boykie. He lives one house down from where I knocked him over.
I then made one of the hardest phone calls I have ever had to make.
Sorry, I ran over your dog.
I scooped the little thing in my arms, ignoring the blood and reunited Boykie with his owners, a South African family, I knew it would be – from the dogs name.
He’s an old dog and was in really bad shape. They were going to rush him straight to the vet.
They were supernice and told me, it’s normal for him to escape the house and run out into the street.
They didn’t blame me.
I still feel so shit.
I don’t know he’s going to make it.
All of last night and still again this morning, his vision, his whimpers, his eyes, they all haunt me.
I can’t believe I ran over a dog.