I've been on both sides of the fence.

One day I arrived home and my neighbors came over to tell me that my beloved, big, beautiful collie had been hit by the mail truck, clipped as the dog popped out of the ditch directly into its path. My neighbors had already buried the dog so I wouldn't have to.

Then one dark rainy night a few years later I was on the coast highway in Oregon, on a small bridge, traffic going both directions, going only about 35 mph. Into my headlights came a happy, ear-flapping cocker-spaniel sized dog, directly between my front wheels. There was no way I could miss him; I couldn't even swerve. Went back to the gas station at the bridge and there was a vacationing couple from the east gassing up their camper, who were calling for their little dog that had jumped out of the camper to chase a dune buggy. The woman said, 'I just don't know how we're going to tell our little daughter who is sleeping in the camper. He's her puppy.'

Of the two I actually felt worse about the spaniel. In my defense, my collie's death took place in the days when the law didn't require him to be tied up- but it seems that I should have been aware of the danger. I was aware I was fortunate that his action didn't cause damage or harm to someone else.

I guess that's how it crystallizes: the animal owner is the one who suffers the loss but also stands at the ultimate line of responsibility.

It helps to remind oneself that there is no way you would have chosen to cause this, and it helps to remind oneself that had it happened to you and yours, you would forgive the other person. There are times when life is really difficult; we can only muddle on...