Dear Editor:
I write this letter to the individual driving northbound on Watson Road South at about 8pm on Jan. 29. As you passed Maltby Road I am not sure you remember what was going through your mind, but shortly thereafter I am sure you do.
You hit something at the end of my driveway, I am not sure if it surprised you or you did it on purpose (I tell myself that it was not on purpose and that he died instantly), your black Chevrolet was missing a lot of plastic and lighting, the impact was fierce.
You took the time to stop and walk to the body of my beloved dog Stig and stand over him (I saw your footprints in the snow walking to him in the ditch.) I pray that he died instantly and did not suffer, but all I can do is pray, because I do not know. I am sure you were scared, and afraid of what someone might do if you walked to our house to tell us. So, you left him there in the snow in the ditch.
I forgive you.
I do because he would; he was a very good dog, and I should know because I see a lot of dogs in my line of work. He was with us for almost nine years, and they were some of the best. I could tell stories of his exploits, friendships, triumphs, glories and even a couple uh-ohs, but the word limit on these letters will not allow.
In these current times of disease and death in the news, I realize that the death of a dog is hardly newsworthy, and I know I will hear that “he shouldn’t have been near the road.” Believe me, my family has worn that one real thin in my house.
Our hearts are broken, and our pain is great, but we will make it through. My worry is for you, and for everyone else, and it is a lesson for me that I will try to live up to, because I am imperfect too. I will leave you with two quotes that I keep telling myself.
“All creatures are put on this Earth to learn how to live a good life, and how to love others. Dogs already know how to do this, so they don’t have to stay as long.”
“The right decision, is always the hardest one.”
Abraham Aho,
Puslinch