I Probably Killed A Deer

On the way home from the farm after our Thanksgiving dinner, I hit a deer with my Jaguar.

I was with my 13 year old niece Kegan and we saw the deer coming and I slammed the brakes, but I hit it. There were no airbags or trauma or rollover. There was just a ton of fur flying everywhere. It looked like feathers. Poor thing.

We sat shocked, it was all like slow motion. We both cried at first because we felt horrible about the deer suffering. I could not look in the ditch for fear I would witness its last breath and the throes of death. When I next looked at Kegan, she was texting all of her friends.

I called the farm and the family launched immediately. The funny thing was that they came with shotguns. I think they had visions of venison steak running through their heads.

When the family arrived, my sister Kim checked out her daughter, ensured she was okay, and then said “I sure hope my laptop wasn’t damaged.” My brother took a cursory glance at us and then headed for the wood line to see if he could find the deer. It was nowhere to be found.

I called the Sheriff and they came and filed a report. He gave me a tiny spiral bound sheet of paper with a case number on it. I guess they have so many deer accidents they ran out of official accident reports. He also told me I had a nice car and that some guy named Ron had a black one just like it. I wasn’t in the mood for small talk about some stupid car. I had just had a traumatic event and needed a glass of wine.

Then my sister summed it all up when she said, “Well, at least it didn’t come through the windshield and kick your teeth in.”