Intentionally Untitled

Try as I might, I simply cannot decide on a title for this post. So let's just put that aside, and allow me to relate an experience I had yesterday morning on the way to work.

I live outside the city proper, so the morning commute to get my kids to school and myself to work is a 40 minute routine, on average. Yesterday however, traffic flow over the mountain and into town was abnormally slow. Usually, that means an accident up on or near where the interstate starts. Checking my watch, I knew I had time, provided we at least kept moving. Still, I found myself feeling a little grumpy at the delay, but with my kids in the car, I kept my thoughts to myself.

After reaching the high point, I was able to look down and see the flashing lights down on the left hand side, at the point where the interstate moves to its upraised segment. As we crawled ever so closer, I couldn't see any evidence of a pile up, or a stalled vehicle. Just a solitary police car, parked on the narrow shoulder and jutting out slightly into the traffic lane. In my mind, I'm trying to figure out all the standard scenarios. And I was puzzled, because the officer was the only one on the scene, and he was partially blocking traffic. Why didn't he just go ahead and move out of the way? He's obviously doing his job, but he is also creating a traffic hazard.

As I'm already locked in the left lane, I figure there's not much I can do but wait it out. When I finally came up alongside the police car, I still didn't see anything. And then I did, and I'm not sure I can completely explain what happened next.

About five feet in front of the officer's car, laying down next to the median barrier, was a dog. He was panting a bit, head erect, and clearly frightened. I could not tell if he was injured, and as I drove by, I fixed my eyes upon him for just an additional moment in my side mirror. Then I had to move on, as the traffic had picked up the pace past the cop, past the dog.

But throughout the rest of the commute, my mind just kept replaying the image of what I had just seen. That the dog was alive at all was a miracle in itself, for where he was, there really was nowhere for him to go. He was trapped by the traffic, by the side walls of the road itself. How did he get there? Who did he belong to? What was going to happen to him? It was further a wonder that the dog stayed put, as one can only imagine the impact to both him and morning commuters had he darted out again into the road.

Then my thoughts settled on the police officer, and suddenly I found myself fighting a wave of deep-seated emotion that nearly engulfed me. This officer could have easily driven by and ignored the plight of this poor animal. Most people probably would have. Yet he parked there, providing a shield of protection around the dog, protecting him as best he could from the heavy flow of traffic and the possibility of further injury or death, presumably waiting for the arrival of animal control or some other rescue. All these thoughts and emotions, as one who has been sheltered, as one who has tried to shelter … this scene was such a poignant and living metaphor in so many ways … I find it hard to speak of it out loud. I've only told the story twice, and each time struggled to get through it.

I don't know what happened to the dog, and there's no way I'll ever know. But I won't forget what I saw, and I won't forget what I felt. It's given me a lot to think about.