my dog bled from his eyes the night he was hit by a truck. a tooth was knocked out and a leg broken. the truck, speeding down the hill like an escaped lunatic, fractured his skull and broke his nose. i thought he was dead. he didn’t come when i called and no one could find him. i searched icy ditches with a flashlight and my neighbors and called out “Poe, Poe” over and over with my breath dancing out in front of me. still, he didn’t come. i thought he was dead.

it was my fault. i called him home from across the street. he saw me and a look of recognition sprang to his face. my dog always recognizes me, of course. but sometimes he chooses to pretend. to turn away and continue his play. but not just then. then his ears turned up and he sprang to attention. eager to come in. maybe for a treat. maybe to have his rump scratched. maybe he was just bored with outside.

i hate that road. cars race by like they have somewhere to be. like boredom is chasing them and boredom is death and the accelerator holds the key. there’s a 35 mph sign or two dotting the country road but it’s mostly a form of amusement. something for people to mark how much over the speed limit they happen to be driving. the oncoming truck didn’t see his black coat in the dark night. i saw the impact of the bumper against his head and the scream from my mouth went around the block and back again and reached my ears, startling me. i wondered who screamed and why. when i realized it was me i opened the screen door and ran back inside, hiding. i fell against it and cried and refused to go back out. if i didn’t go back outside it didn’t happen. if i didn’t go back outside i could shut out the sight of his body flying in the night, the whimper of his pain. the scraping of his claws on asphalt.

the neighbor who came running had also heard my scream and he pounded at the door at my back, demanding satisfaction. where is tragedy? where is emergency? what warrants a scream in the night time? i’m here. enlighten me. i opened the door and fell into his arms. wrecked and sobbing. incoherent. “he’s dead. he’s dead.” was all i could say.

by then a small group had gathered. other neighbors. also demanding satisfaction. i looked for pitchforks and torches. nothing binds a community like tragedy close to home. nothing brings us closer, makes us feel important. nothing makes us feel better about ourselves and nothing, nothing makes us happier to be who we are and not the other guy. for once.

we searched the road. the grass. the ditches and the fields. country people consider a dog a worthwhile endeavor. the truck was long gone. my dog was a speed bump in his race to the finish line.

jim, the handy neighbor found him first. he had managed to crawl up the back deck to my house, broken and bleeding. he wobbled and whimpered and there was no light in his eyes. i ran to him and covered him with my body. his blood saturated my clothes. my tears saturated his coat. jim looked away. embarrassed. you can only take this thing so far.

since the accident he acts like something was knocked loose in his head. he’s a smart dog. he knows come. and sit. he’ll shake your hand and lay down when you say. it’s not that he’s not a smart dog. but he sits and stares for long periods of time like he’s stuck on something. something he can’t quite figure out.

my dog lies at full length on the tiled floor and follows small shadows with his eyes. he stalks them like living things and tries to cover them with his paws. he’s got the saddest eyes of anything on the planet. and when he rests his head in my lap i feel my heart breaking. my heart shatters and breaks and gets made whole again.

another thing: he can’t stand to be alone.

a man told me once i had a hard face. “you’re not ugly” he said, “you’ve just got such a hard face. like you’re angry and agitated.” and that cut me quick. to the core. i’d rather be ugly. someone else: “you always sound so happy. on the phone.” as if to imply that the reality of me in person is a disappointment. i sound happy as a disembodied voice from miles away. but in person i sound sad and bitter. angry and disconsolate. perhaps i am. me and my hard face. i try not to be. i don’t want to be. people see you this way. but you don’t feel it to be true. how do you show people you’re not who they think you are when your face and actions betray you? and why do you even care?

when i look at my dog it all melts away. i feel no anger. my face is not hard. i feel all of me go soft and happy. a dog has no expectations of your emotions. he hopes for food. requires fresh water. he would like his rump to be scratched. nobody ever said, “i drink because my dog just doesn’t ever understand me.”

he steals chocolate chip cookies cooling on the counter and doesn’t like to come inside until he’s good and ready and i try to be cross with him, but it’s impossible. those eyes turn up at me and anger is unknown to me, a foreign concept as alien as a fifth limb. i can’t feel it.

they have a ritual pet adoption at the pet store. my son drags me along because he likes to pet the animals through their cages. he has such a nimble laugh. once a month on a saturday the local no kill shelter trots out the residents, freshly bathed and hopeful. they xerox fact sheets. they pray for benevolent patrons. i never understood holding adoption drives at pet stores. people who patronize pet stores already have pets. hope springs eternal. i approached the cages and the wind was knocked out of me. “i can’t do this, i can’t do this. i have to leave.” i told him. then i stood up and fled. i told him he could stay. he could stay and poke his fingers through the bars and pet them, he could talk to them. he could browse. but i couldn’t. they weren’t green bananas. they weren’t sofa love seats.

i shopped for chew toys while he petted and when he was done the pimple-faced cashier avoided eye contact while i cried.

my dog has a home and when i come into it he restrains himself from jumping on me, though it requires restraint almost greater than he possesses. his whole body quakes and tremors and his rump goes into spasms, begging for a scratch. he buries his head in my legs and the light in his eyes could start a small forest fire. everyone in their life should have someone that happy to see them. everyone should feel that. a heart near bursting with happiness at the very sight of you. would that you were worth it.