Dear Deer

Well, I have to say 2012 has brought a host of new experiences and this is perhaps not the most pleasant of them. Nonetheless, it happened and I have to share it. Thems the rules.

Jason and I attended a friend's birthday (Happy birthday, Rebecca!) and drove home separately. At this point, I am trailing him in my car. And scene.

We were heading down a fairly empty, mainly residential road when I see a brown cat in my periphery. Hmm, maybe not a cat...I see a dog. Nope, not a dog either. Uh oh, that's a deer. Make that three of them. On the run. And. They. Are. Heading. For. Jason's...crunch...oh god.

Apparently, 2012 is not the year of the deer. Jason immediately pulls into the median and I follow. In between our vehicles is the unfortunate writhing doe. I think I am screaming inside and possible on the outside, too. The idiot in me wants to pet it and sprinkle some glitter on it. It seemed to work for one of the Disney princesses, I think. The pragmatist wants to get it help, so I call 911. It went a little something like this:

911: "This is 911 Emergency Services. What is the emergency?"

Me: "Um, we, I mean...he...I mean...umm, a deer was hit."

911: "Where are you?"

Me: "Manchaca and Davis, well just south of Davis."

911: "Is the deer dead? Is anyone hurt?"

Me: "Errrr...the deer is missing some fur and it's leg is...wait! It's trying to get up. You can do it, deer! Ohhh noooo, it fell down again. Oh geez, c'mon deer. Get up! GET UP! You can...it's up! Wait, it's...NO! It's running into traffic again. No deer, RUNNNN! Why are you going that way?!?! DEEER!"

911: "M'am?"

Me: "I think it ran away."

911: "I will send someone out, just in case."

Me: "Good, I am nervous it won't find it's family again. You see, it had a family of two other..."

911: "Ummm, yeahhh... Thanks for trying to help it."

Me: "GAH!"

Trembling and on the brink of tears, Jason wraps his coat around me and I ask if it will be okay. "Well, yeah. It's, uhhh...it's totally fine. It ran off. Didn't you see that?" Me: "I am not ten. Give me a realistic percentage here."

When we get home, I tell Jason we need to send it a prayer because it's possible we killed a deer. He gave me a quizzical look and I replied that we are a team. If he killed a deer, I killed a deer. His response is the reason I felt compelled to blog.

"Jaimie, do you not think I wasn't praying that entire time? 'Oh god, oh god, don't hit the deer. Oh god, oh god, I hit the deer. Oh god, don't let Jaimie see I hit the deer. Oh god, she saw it. Oh god, don't let the deer be hurt. Oh god, it's hurt. Oh god, don't let Jaimie be sad. Oh god, she's sad.' "

"Well, we need to pray for it now, just in case it, um... Give me your hands."

(I clasp his hands in mine)

"Dear Deer. (giggles) Be serious! Okay, we are sorry we hurt and possibly killed you. If you are hearing this, you are probably dead so we hope you are not hearing this. I wanted to pet you and said you looked sad and Jason said 'Haven't you ever heard the expression doe eyes? They all look sad!' Still, we are sorry if you are sad. We are sorry for taking a patch of you fur from your butt. We hope if you live that the bald place on your butt is not cold. Please do not run into the street again if you are still alive. Also, if you are now a ghost please do not haunt Jaimie. She didn't hit you, Jason did. Amen."

In all seriousness, I think it *might* be okay. This is possibly the most traumatic thing I have ever seen - it really was awful. Blame my regional upbringing - there are not many deer hittin' the clubs in south Florida. If I were a midwest girl, I would have been better equipped to handle this. Alas, sweet deer, I hope you are okay. /pet