I live on a paved rural road that is marked at 50 mph [80 in kilometers] and between towns. Vehicles are on the way from one place to another and focused on the goal. There is no way to walk for exercise from my home without walking a minimum of a half mile on this road. I’m a night owl, and sometimes I get caught up in something, lose track of time and emerge to find that it is first light. One of these times I looked up and realized not only would it soon be light, but I had not yet done my exercise for the day, which simply did not fit into the jigsaw puzzle of getting kids where they needed to go and feed them on a particularly busy day. It was a temperate summer night close to midsummer, so I slipped on shoes and headed out the door and up the hill in the last of the dark, under a clear moonless night with the stars in their glory but fading fast with the greying of dawn. The roads were a largely empty of traffic, I moved along briskly, and as the light came on, I began to see the occasional car, but as it was high summer, it was still way too early for most people to be up and on the road. By the time I was heading down the half mile hill to my house it was the first full light of a clear, cloudless day. Part way down there was a small lump in the far lane that had not been there when I had been heading out. I went and stood there in the street for a moment to look down on a small perfect coyote pup, no visible injuries or blood, but clearly dead. Which of the cars that passed me hit it? I’ll never know. I looked around to see if mom was around, but coyotes can be so stealthy, I don’t suppose I’d ever know if she were, because there was lots of brush and tree cover to hide in. Poor perfect pup, so very young.
That moment, that picture, has lingered in my mind, and it is not one of those that time will fade. It was one wild animal, in an area where cars move fast, and unless they hit something large, a deer, a bear, or occasionally causing the great peril to the driver, a moose, they seldom stop. It was an expectable casualty in the battle of wildlife to survive an environment where humanity dominates.
But it haunts me, and I only saw the aftermath. You saw the actual moment, you were witness to the first moments of the owner’s shock and grief. You stepped in to deal with the practicalities of the body, the gore, and the human aftermath. And that was before you dealt with all the social implications of neighborhood and Facebook chats. It is no wonder you are shaken, and no wonder you were frustrated in your tone on that post. The driver caused real pain, not to mention death, and did not stop to deal with the consequences of their actions. Considering the gravity of those consequences, I don’t think you were out of line. I also think it’s possible that your post was taken down not for what you said in isolation, but because in the time that you were doing other things, the mix of comments on it made it clear to the moderator that the thread as a whole was not a model of neighbors building a sense of community, but instead a growing picture of taking sides, some siding with the owner and the cat, others identifying with the driver or belonging to the “it’s just a cat!” contingent, and removed the whole thing to maintain the illusion of togetherness. Humanity is messy, and the moderator may simply be someone who doesn’t chose to deal with that.
Regardless of what the moderator’s reasoning, I’m so very sorry about what was clearly an unpleasant day all around, and one of those that will linger. For what it’s worth, I treasure the people like you in my neighborhood who see trouble and head out to help. They are what makes a neighborhood good.
no subject
That moment, that picture, has lingered in my mind, and it is not one of those that time will fade. It was one wild animal, in an area where cars move fast, and unless they hit something large, a deer, a bear, or occasionally causing the great peril to the driver, a moose, they seldom stop. It was an expectable casualty in the battle of wildlife to survive an environment where humanity dominates.
But it haunts me, and I only saw the aftermath. You saw the actual moment, you were witness to the first moments of the owner’s shock and grief. You stepped in to deal with the practicalities of the body, the gore, and the human aftermath. And that was before you dealt with all the social implications of neighborhood and Facebook chats. It is no wonder you are shaken, and no wonder you were frustrated in your tone on that post. The driver caused real pain, not to mention death, and did not stop to deal with the consequences of their actions. Considering the gravity of those consequences, I don’t think you were out of line. I also think it’s possible that your post was taken down not for what you said in isolation, but because in the time that you were doing other things, the mix of comments on it made it clear to the moderator that the thread as a whole was not a model of neighbors building a sense of community, but instead a growing picture of taking sides, some siding with the owner and the cat, others identifying with the driver or belonging to the “it’s just a cat!” contingent, and removed the whole thing to maintain the illusion of togetherness. Humanity is messy, and the moderator may simply be someone who doesn’t chose to deal with that.
Regardless of what the moderator’s reasoning, I’m so very sorry about what was clearly an unpleasant day all around, and one of those that will linger. For what it’s worth, I treasure the people like you in my neighborhood who see trouble and head out to help. They are what makes a neighborhood good.