Today we received a call concerning a
galgo puppy who had been hit by a
car on the highway. The person who called said he was curled
up at the
roadside, immobile, with a broken leg. The caller hadn’t seen
him for him-/herself,
but had been notified by another person who had driven by in
his/her car.
We immediately set off to look for him,
but we didn’t find him. We took the
service road next to the highway driving there to and fro
several times, but
nothing.
Eventually we decided to take the highway to search from another perspective, and after a few kilometres, we spotted blood on the lane, a lot of blood, but no dog.
We drove again along the service road, stopped where we had seen the blood, and passed through the scrub that borders the highway to get to the site where we thought the accident had happened.
What we found was appalling. Inexplicable streaks of blood that suggested that more than one animal had been run over, or that one and the same animal had been run over several times. No body.
The first impact must have had happened in the fast lane, and there were dragging trails of blood towards the edge of the lane.
A few meters farther, also in the fast lane, there were signs of another impact and more dragging marks up to edge of the carriageway, pieces of skin, fibres, blood, in a zigzag pattern
along the edge of the carriageway, for meters and meters, eventually disappearing. No body.
We thought the service staff of the motorway had already removed the corpse, and we were already about to go, when we finally checked some bushes a little farther away for a last time.
And there we found him, horribly wounded, broken, stripped, he had just recently died. Dropped or thrown into a bush, like garbage.
Eventually we decided to take the highway to search from another perspective, and after a few kilometres, we spotted blood on the lane, a lot of blood, but no dog.
We drove again along the service road, stopped where we had seen the blood, and passed through the scrub that borders the highway to get to the site where we thought the accident had happened.
What we found was appalling. Inexplicable streaks of blood that suggested that more than one animal had been run over, or that one and the same animal had been run over several times. No body.
The first impact must have had happened in the fast lane, and there were dragging trails of blood towards the edge of the lane.
A few meters farther, also in the fast lane, there were signs of another impact and more dragging marks up to edge of the carriageway, pieces of skin, fibres, blood, in a zigzag pattern
along the edge of the carriageway, for meters and meters, eventually disappearing. No body.
We thought the service staff of the motorway had already removed the corpse, and we were already about to go, when we finally checked some bushes a little farther away for a last time.
And there we found him, horribly wounded, broken, stripped, he had just recently died. Dropped or thrown into a bush, like garbage.
We called him Rainbow.
The Rainbow of today is just one of them, but there are many Rainbows out there, they come and go without having anyone feeling for them or taking responsibility for their lives and deaths.
So many people are responsible for his death!
His galguero, first of all, who abandoned him to his fate, thereby condemning him.
All those who had seen him wandering unhurt or already wounded.
Those who saw him wounded in the early
morning hours, taking their time
before calling us for help after hours.
Those who saw him wounded without doing
anything at all.
He/she who ran him over the first time,
leaving him in agony, or
even dragging his body over the pavement.
Those who saw him curled up in agony.
He/she who hit him a second time, once
more dragging him over the
asphalt and leaving him bloody, stripped, and terrified.
All those who did not do anything to help
him.
I only saw him when it was too late, and I am not able to get the picture of that poor, small wren out of my head, as he lies curled up, frightened and desperate at the roadside. I do not want to imagine the pain and the fear he must have felt, the hours passing by without anyone doing anything. I cannot shake off the guilt that I feel for not having been able to help him, and I wonder what kind of person can run another living being over and leave him agonizing like that, and go on living in peace.
I only saw him when it was too late, and I am not able to get the picture of that poor, small wren out of my head, as he lies curled up, frightened and desperate at the roadside. I do not want to imagine the pain and the fear he must have felt, the hours passing by without anyone doing anything. I cannot shake off the guilt that I feel for not having been able to help him, and I wonder what kind of person can run another living being over and leave him agonizing like that, and go on living in peace.
Welcome to the beginning of the hunting season, Spain 2015!
Simonetta
