I had to stop reading here because this brought back a memory that I’ve been trying to forget for 10 years.

It was March. It was raining. My dad has picked me up from school so I wouldn’t have to take the train home. I saw the dog, who I later learned was named Sandy, in the middle of the road. My dad stopped and we jumped out of the car just as the car next to us hit Sandy.

She had a seizure and died as we rushed her to the nearest vet.

I sat in the back seat with her when she died and I was inconsolable.

We tracked down the owner. It was a man who had opened the front door to check his mail and didn’t see that she had run out.

The memory haunted me for years.

A few months later, my brother was driving me home from my grandma’s house. It was January 1st. We got on the highway, and as we got onto the entrance ramp…

There was the smallest dog, brown and unkempt, literally toppling over every time a car passed by, unable to withstand the wind the cars created.

My brother and I looked at each other. We knew we only had one chance. He slowed down and put on his blinkers. I opened my door on the highway and scooped up the dog with my hands as we drove.

This time, I wasn’t a second too late.

No microchip. Had been badly abused and used for breeding in a puppy mill, they suspected.

My mom adopted him and named him Jorge. He died in January of this year after 10 years never leaving her side.

Your writing is beautiful but I can’t keep going.