Rounding the bend, I saw the sign and slowed my bike for a better look. It was staked in the front yard of a gorgeous country home. I often pass this idyllic neighborhood when cycling and dream of one day living out here. A peaceful river gurgles on one side of the road; expensive homes sit on ten acre lots; Tennessee’s rolling hills paint a serene backdrop.
But then there was the sign. Professionally made, it said something to the effect of, “To the person that shot my dog, could you please tell me why?”
My image of the perfect neighborhood was shattered. Violence like this doesn’t…shouldn’t happen out in the country! This sorta thing happens in low-rent districts or trailer parks, NOT here.
But it did. And judging by the tone of the sign, I imagined this dog to be a gentle creature, one that would wag his tail and lick you incessantly. Sure, like many country dogs, he probably wandered off a bit too much. But is that any reason to shoot him?
I biked past the same area yesterday. The sign was gone. But in reality, you can never remove a sign like this. It will forever tarnish this quaint neighborhood with the image of a bullet, a dog, and the answer to its lingering question…
Evil lurks everywhere, even in pastoral settings like this.
J.E. Lowder 
How sad it is that we have to confront violence in the least expected places. I find your writing beautiful, almost poetic, which makes the ugliness of the sign jump in my mind as if it were written in the dog’s blood. So sad.
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Thanks for the writing compliment. And yes, it is sad. When I bike this road, I still remember the sign and more importantly, the tragedy involved. I think I always will.
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