I missed the driver of the Explorer who ran over my dog...
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Sorry you broke your fog light but that was my dog's head that smashed into it! Sorry man, my bad. Maybe you thought that was an 80 LB child who you hit and broke his neck and that's why you kept going. That was my fucking dog whose lead you pulled out of my hand while we were crossing with a WALK signal. I would've gotten your plate number instead of comforting his bloody remains had I known you weren't going to stop. Three cops who came by asked, "What can we do?"; Paramedics asked, "What can we do?"; DC Animal Control people asked, "What can we do?"; women from 10th Street Baptist asked, "What can we do?" Most children are not treated better than my dog. I had just driven 1,400 miles with him and being new to DC, I had no one to turn to and the last time I checked, it wasn't illegal anywhere for a spineless mother-fucker going 60 MPH in a 25 MPH Zone to cold cock an innocent, one-year-old puppy in the crosswalk at 6 AM. I just don't have anyone to talk to. I look out my window everyday and see the darkened concrete of his blood. I've blamed myself, I've had visitors, I've gone away, I've drank, I've not talked about it with the new people I meet, I've prayed with a marginally effeminate prayer group, I've been in mourning for over a week and it's not gotten any better. A lesser person would be waiting at that light between 5:30 and 6:30 every morning, waiting to put a pellet in your head and then piss down your bleeding skull but I take comfort for some reason, knowing that someone, somewhere has plans for you: You in a cell with a crew of tireless, sexually insatiable boyfriends at Rikers Island would be a nice start....