Good grief, yesterday morning, cold as could possibly be, TJ and I took the van and headed into Halifax.  So cold it didn't seem the heat was working.  Gloves, scarf, blinding sun as we left the 101 headed for Magazine Hill via the Bedford Bypass... we didn't make it quite to the 102 overpass when all traffic came to a screeching halt.  The van made an expletive sound before throwing us back stopped.

Up ahead, three cars, one truck, one injured deer.  As far as I can tell, the driver of the truck saw the deer stayed in his left lane with both feet on the brake giving the deer one heck of a hip check into the concrete median.  The car behind him, no such luck for the driver, who didn't see the truck stop.   The front of the car looked like it had been detonated with 10 tons of dynamite, that made my stomach flip once, but when I saw the poor deer, both back legs broken; I just got angry and sad, mostly angry and then to my surprise a tad blood-thirsty.

It must be a natural instinct, to want to snuff the life from an animal that is so badly broken.  I looked around the van, thinking 'what do I have that could put that animal out of its misery.'  It was just a fleeting thought because we were being redirected around the accident... I can't remember a single face, just the deer, so confused, in such shock, unable to figure out why legs which just a few seconds earlier worked, refused to now remove itself from that hard concrete, so cold and so far away from home.

That certainly wasn't my worst commute, but I ordered breakfast an hour later than usual, wishing I had had a knife to stop the confusion of an animal who would never dream of driving someone over en route to work...