Last October, on Thomas's 12th birthday, I hit a dog. It was horrible and I've thought about it a lot since it happened. It doesn't help that we have to drive by the owner's house any time we want to go anywhere.
When I hit the dog, we gave them our phone number and asked them to please call us and let us know how the dog was. They did not give us their name nor number.
They never called. Bob and I assumed the dog died.
Bob and I have also had discussions with Thomas on how dangerous that was, and the fact that they would have been held responsible financially had we got rear ended, which almost happened. So as sad as it was, it was a learning experience.
I never had the heart to go knock on their door to ask them about the dog.
Lo and behold, today we were driving back from my medical appointment and were following a school bus. The bus stopped right in front of their house. I looked, as I've done every time I drive by for any signs of a dog -- and I saw it!
The dog lived. There he was, cute as a button, sporting a fresh haircut, wagging his tail while his girl, who was 5, ran toward him from the school bus. He was on a tie-down.
What a relief. I had feared he died, and it was really good to know that he did not. That was a horrible day.
As Thomas and I drove home, he commented on the fact that their dog lived, but ours died and he was glad they didn't have to experience that pain.
We still miss Jerry and think of him often, but Tesla and Apollo keep us more than busy and are full of love.