EDIT (7/7/2012) AN: I live in a rather rural area and work on an Indian reservation. The amount of loose dogs I see on the highway on my way to and from work, as well as the ones who visit the place I work at is ridiculous. I don't care if you have indoor or outdoor dogs, keep them contained. I can't even begin to imagine the agony a dog with an untreated broken pelvis goes through before it dies. We used to get a lot of hit by car dogs into the shelter I used to work at and the injuries were often horrendous. Accidents happen; dogs jump or dig or slip out. But not only do you risk having your dog killed, you are also liable for the damages to the driver's car. And if you're letting it run because you don't want your dog anymore, take it to the shelter. It might die there, but it won't be as painful as getting hit by a bloody truck.
This is for that anonymous white dog with orange patches on its head. I'm sorry I didn't stop.
He was running late to work on a Wednesday when Derek Morgan saw first the dog on the side of the road. He only caught a glimpse of it; laying in the grass next to the highway, watching traffic go by. Some sort of hound mutt, white with orange on its head and a dazed look in its eyes. Morgan hoped it hadn't been hit, hoped that if it had been, it was only stunned and would get up and walk away on its own, because it was clearly still alive now. He didn't see it get hit, so maybe it was only hanging out on the side of the road. His aunt had a dog like that, one that enjoyed sitting on the hill and watching cars drive by in the afternoon.
He didn't stop. He was already running late. Besides, maybe someone else would stop and pick up the dog. It would probably get up and wander off before then when it warmed up.
He didn't think about the dog again until the very next day when he glanced at the side of the road the dog had been just the day before. It was still there, only this time it wasn't watching traffic. It was laying there, stretched out in roughly the same spot where it had clearly tried to move from, eyes unseeing. Morgan's thoughts immediately drifted to the temperature the day before. It was July and the temperature had broken 100 by noon. The dog's death had not been quick and it must have been completely miserable from the internal pain, heat and thirst. Alone, watching the uncaring traffic drive past.
Less than a mile up the road Morgan passed a veterinary clinic.
The anonymous dog's body remained there for days until someone, probably the city's sanitation service, removed it. Morgan passed it everyday on his way to work.
For weeks Morgan couldn't drive by that stretch of road without a twinge of guilt.
A few months later, a different road. A dark shaggy form was limping on the side on the highway when Morgan drove by, its head down and tongue lolling. Its movements stiff and obviously painful. Morgan caught a better glimpse of it as he passed. There was a smear of dark red on the splash of white fur on the dog's chest.
He didn't stop, taking one more glance at the dark dog in his rear view mirror. He was reminded of another dog on a hot day in July.
Morgan turned the car around.