I’ve been reading through the 16 old diaries I found recently, dating from 1984-1992. I came across an entry about a disturbing experience that still haunts me to this day. I’m going to write an excerpt from it.

January 22, 1988

I was supposed to play racquetball with Andy Rice today. As I pulled out onto Gleason Road, I started following a Jeep Cherokee and I noticed two dogs walking on the side of the road. Just as I was approaching Suburban Hills, the second one — a German Shepard puppy — ran out in front of the Jeep. My heart stopped. It was fucking awful! It seemed like it was in slow motion. The Jeep tried to stop, but it hit the dog. He got stuck under the wheels as it dragged him along. They stopped the car, but couldn’t see where he was, so they backed up — right over him! I saw all of this behind them. We stopped and I got out. I’ve never heard screaming like that in my life. It was in mortal agony. Its back legs were crushed, and one looked practically torn off. Parts of its belly were hanging out on the road. I wanted to be sick. The other dog took off. And this dog looked me right in the eye while in such agonizing pain. I wanted to kill myself. Blood was pouring from its mouth. It started dragging itself by its front paws towards the woods at the side of the road and gradually got there, screaming and crying the whole torturous way. I was completely devastated. I couldn’t stop shaking. I thought briefly about going home and getting a shotgun to come back and finish him off, put him out of his misery, but instead I got in the car and got to the nearest pay phone and called Sandi. I stood beside Kingston Pike bawling my eyes out. She tried to console me, but what could she say? Needless to say, I was worthless at racquetball, and when I left, I couldn’t return home the same way. I bawled the entire way. I went to bed and cried so hard I shook. It really doesn’t make much fucking sense. I mean, I never knew this dog, right? But the thought of a poor little dog, laying awake at night wondering where his playmate, his companion, his friend was simply kills me! It’s so totally unfair. It’s not very nice that pets have to die in the first place, but Scamper lived a long, satisfying life — 16 years. This dog didn’t get that chance. I can still see the poor, defenseless little animal crying in sickening agony, not knowing why this had happened, not understanding why his master couldn’t help him. I really wish I didn’t have to see that, but more importantly, I wish it didn’t have to happen….