Like Slow Motion

A beautiful spring day, I decided to take my special girl for a quick car ride. She usually rides in the back, but today I wanted her near me, so I let her ride in the front. I‘m a safe driver — extra safe when I have my girl riding shotgun. I loop her leash around my wrist and we head out for a little fresh air and dog food run (I always hang on to her when she’s in front). Headed back — we’re singing, the sun is shining, we go through the intersection at about 30 mph on a green arrow.

It was like slow motion but it happened in a second. A blue Subaru Outback a few years newer than mine ran the red light through the intersection. I simultaneously applied the brakes and maneuvered out of the way to avoid a t-bone crash in my driver’s side door. June’s face is on the glass.

I narrowly avoid tragedy. I pull into the 7/11 to stop my hands shaking out of control and check on my girl. No one stops. We’re fine. I sit in shock for 5 minutes, and drive home just as the tears come.

I was 4 minutes from home getting dog food on a sunny day, and I could have easily lost my best friend in an instant because of someone else’s lack of attention to the road. This isn’t the first time something like this has happened, in fact, it happens almost every time I leave the house these days. People are incredibly distracted right now, but that’s not an excuse.

It doesn’t matter what the reason is. My parents taught me as a 16-year-old new driver that operating a motor vehicle is a privilege, not a right. It’s taken me too many close encounters to truly understand that privilege and the gravity of the responsibility that comes with it. I thank the universe almost every day that my stupid mistakes have never hurt anyone.

Please pay attention.

Currently shopping for a dog seatbelt if anyone knows of one good for large dogs.