It was a hot, long, busy weekend in Austin. I woke up this morning feeling slow. The 82F at 6am did not prompt me to move any faster. Given the heat and humidity, I opted for a walk in lieu of my scheduled run. Only an hour remained of Kitchen Confidential. It would provide the perfect feeling of completion to round out the month and begin the week.
The neighborhood was quiet and still, the street lights illuminating the ground but blocking out the stars above. I got to the main intersection and turned right to start my usual loop. Just as I turned I heard barking behind me over Bourdain's voice. I looked over my shoulder just in time to see a 90's Chevrolet pickup meet the source of the barking. The pickup dragged the source under the front wheel before coming to a stop. The noise was horrendous. There was no outcome that included survival. My body filled with something--not adrenaline, not dread--and I turned up the audiobook and ran up the hill as fast as I could.
I was out of earshot and far away. My legs felt empty. My mind was numb and nowhere. I could not have saved the dog. I was forced to bear witness to its untimely death. Processing it has been slow. My brain and heart skip from one emotion/feeling to another like hopscotch, never planting a foot long enough to dwell. There was nothing the driver could have done. It was dark. He came over a hill. The dog was black. It ran out from behind a bush abutting the curb. The two met.
By the time I returned, there was no evidence that anything had happened. The world was waking up, the low grey sky slowly becoming more illuminated as an unseen sun began to rise. An intimate final moment that will forever remain in the dark. A black dog making its last leap. A pickup truck undamaged. A driver unnerved. A Monday off to a bad start. A witness gone unnoticed but noticing everything. A hot humid day indifferent to its beginning, or its end. The dog's end.