I remember early in the summer during the garbage strike I commented on all the road kill that was plaguing our main roadways. Since then, I have had a shock to the system and feel differently about our squashed forest friends. I was in the car with Stuart (he was driving- thank GOD) and we were on a quiet side street on our way home from dinner and WHAMMO! A huge-dog sized- raccoon waddled across the road almost directly in front of my tires. Since it is a residential area, we were only going about 40km an hour- hardly fast enough to splatter a raccoon. Instead we went over it like we might go over a speed bump. Tortuously slow and agonizingly drawn out. I remember holding my breath and looking in the rear view mirror.
Maybe we didn’t hit him? Maybe there actually was a speed bump? But no. My worst fears were confirmed when I saw him trying to pull himself to the curb with his front paws. I immediately burst into hysterical tears. Shaking sobs, practically hyperventilating. We both sat frozen watching him struggle, knowing we hadn’t hit him hard enough to kill him, but that we had been going slow enough to mortally wound him with the weight of the vehicle. I have never seen an animal hit by a car and I have never (myself) ran over one. To say that I was distressed is an understatement. I believe I almost fainted when Stuart said “we have to run over him again”. “WHAT????” I screamed. The poor creature had been through enough and even if we DID hit him again (fast enough to supposedly finish the job, but slow enough to not damage my car considering he was the size of a moose) there would be no guarantee it would kill him this time.
Besides, I couldn’t bring myself to. I always thought that if I was in the situation where I needed to humanely dispose of a wounded animal- I would have the courage. By knife, ax or blunt object or by running it over again. Turns out it is a whole different story when it is actually happening.
So we drove away. We watched a movie with friends and I tried not to think about it. After everyone left, I couldn't wait anymore. I convinced Stuart to drive back to the gruesome scene to see if someone braver had put him out of his misery or if some other unfortunate car had hit him again. When we got there, he was lying almost on the sidewalk. He could have been asleep, he looked perfectly undamaged on the outside. But we knew he had died. I can't stop thinking about how long it might have taken for him to die. How much pain he must have felt and how long it had been drawn out. (I know, it is depressing to think about). I could kick myself for leaving him there without...doing something. It was 10 o clock at night. There was no way animal control would have come to help a raccoon. They are a dime a dozen....
My sister says I have too much of a soft spot to humanize a raccoon like that. They called them vermin. Said I did the city a favour by ridding it of one of the bigger ones. That it is a bigger version of a rat and people hit and kill them every day. They get into garbage and kill peoples pets and are diseased. Then how come I am dwelling on this so much?! Humans are diseased and annoying, and get into garbage....we can't get away with a hit and run with them!
When I was a little kid, my dad caught a mouse at the cottage that had eaten mouse poison and was slow and dopey and almost tame because of it. I had watched him for hours, but eventually my dad had said it was cruel to let him die slowly from the poison and he drowned him in a bucket of water. I cried for hours and laid on my bunk bed and wouldn't talk to anyone. I even drew a little mouse in crayons on the wall (it was a log- so not a big deal) and beside it I wrote 'Goodbye my friend'. It is still there, nearly 14 years later and friends and boyfriends always tease me about it.
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