I didn't mean to, certainly, and I would have not done so if I could have helped it. It was close to nine at night, and fully dark, and I was driving back to Wolfeboro along a back road that cuts about twenty minutes off the drive time.

And then he was there. He had broken his lead apparently, and leapt into the road from a blind driveway, when I couldn't have been five feet away from him. For one agonizing quarter of a second he was illuminated in my headlight, far too close to do anything but sear his image into my brain.

The impact was jarring. It felt like I hit a telephone pole. I'm still nauseated just thinking about it.

He was a golden retriever -- a happy breed with a sweet face. The most popular breed in the country right now. They're dogs you fall in love with, and I expect this family loved their dog a great deal. Images of sobbing children have clung to me since it happened.

And images of children jumping into the road, as sudden as that dog did. Or images of Buddy, our dog.

This morning, in the light, I saw the mark where I hit. Apparently I swerved, as the blow was on my fender, not my front bumper. There was a bit of hair there too. I felt horrid again. I still do. I will for a very long time, I think.

I spoke to my parents, and my mother reminded me of a time she hit a partridge and her chicks in the road. A time I remember -- Mom didn't do anything wrong and tried very hard to stop the car, but the partridge wouldn't leave her children. She faced death and stayed with them, and to this day that bird haunts her. She understands. Animals deserve a better fate than that.

How much worse a dog? I'm not one of those "it's just an animal" people. Dogs are part of peoples' lives and family. I didn't kill a child, but that family is in mourning today, and I was the instrument of that death, and it weighs on my soul.

Mason came over and drove me to a place where we could talk a long time (I was no good to drive). I appreciate that more than I can say. As I do Kate and Russ and Chris A's words, and the well-thoughts of my other friends, who I didn't tell what was going on. I had and have no interest in milking tragedy for sympathy. I'm not the one who needs it. That family is.

Kate recommended I make a donation to a shelter -- something that will convince myself that I'm still a decent person. And Mason, who later saw the road where it happened, said there was no way in Hell I could have avoided it. He's right. Mario Andretti couldn't have gotten out of the way.

But that doesn't help. Not really.

Some of the things I need to update journal-wise, from last week. Maybe later this week you'll see them.

1. The Apple Tech Update.
2. Drawing class.
3. Dorm duty.
4. Andrea and sliding into relationships.
5. The grinding nature of work, right now.
6. Career paths.
7. My hair.
8. Underwear.
9. Coffeemakers and the World Wide Web.
10. The end of the Ethereal Player's Guide.
11. Litheroy and Alemoran.

There were more (I identified sixteen last friday, in the entry that died) but frankly I'm not in the best state to think of them today. Suffice it to say that last week was so drivingly busy that I didn't get much chance to work on this. So, maybe this week. We'll see.