On my way back from Burlington, as I stood up to pedal up a false flat on Lowell Street hauling my trusty bike trailer packed tight with photo gear, my eyes naturally stared at the metallic gray stripe of road that looked like someone was pulling it behind from under me.

Like on a slow conveyor belt it delivered this…

and my heart broke.

Two things that came up to my mind (well, besides “oh, poor puppy…”[I have an unbreakable habit to refer to a lot of cute little furry creatures as "puppies" even though they are not necessarily representing dogs per se]).
First, ever seen that movie - eXistenZ (by Cronenberg, with Jude Law)? Remember that part that Jude’s character finds himself inside that game in front of a conveyor belt in that weird plant that breeds sleazy bald creatures for bio-weaponry and food too? That’s one thing.

The second thought I had was connected to another little-somewhat-furry creature, the corpse of which I had successfully got rid of, along with the trap it was still attached to.
Now, the thought is this: how is it that my heart breaks when I see a roadkill like this, mouthing “oh, you poor puppy….” and at the same time it takes me good 10 minutes to fight off the disgust and get that trap-killed homie mouse (sorry, no pictures). No “poor puppie” feelings there. Both rodents. One is larger and has more fur. This subject is in fact approached in a far more detailed and artful way shortly after the opening scene in “Inglorious Basterds”. If you don’t understand what I am referring to here, go see the movie. It’s a tasty one, but you need to be able to listen, catch, reference and connect.

Feeling like a criminal investigation photographer, I put away my camera and crawled back onto my bike. I admit to the ridiculousness of the guilt claws scratching my soul at the time, but I couldn’t help thinking about not burying the “poor puppy”. I think this is something that most of us carry over from childhood: who didn’t have that experience of a solemn ritual of a dead pet funeral?

Having dealt with the guilt, my mind wandered off to the routes of “how could this have happened”. A car, most likely. Could it be a cyclist? I doubt it - the force would have to be tremendous; besides, a cyclist, generally, is more aware of such happenstances as street crossing animals and the braking/stopping distance is shorter for a bicycle, especially if we are comparing the speed a bicycle will go with to that of a car outside of city.

However, it occurred to me that the infamous cycling-butt fighter, had she happened to notice a roadkill of that kind she would have probably blamed it on cyclists.
Or, better yet, cyclists’ butts. Cars? Drivers? You must be kidding me! Those are the true victims of animals crossing the street. And, of course, cyclists’ butts.

Oh wait, what am I talking about. I am afraid that maybe, according to the bike-butt-fighter, I am not even supposed to be biking on the road there. You know why? A roadkill happened to be right in my way, so I had to go around it, being - oh.my.god. - in the middle of the lane for the whole 2-3 seconds. An eternity, I know!! Now the car behind would get to their red light they were so anxious to get to 3 seconds later. Disaster.

Has that lady ever noticed the state of the roads, especially by the curbside? Does she really - no,really? - think that I am going to ride over a pile of broken glass or a pot hole or “earthquake” cracks in the pavement instead of going around it?

Ah - that’s not what the post is about. Sorry for digression.
On a serious note, though, I do understand that sometimes an accident of that sort is unavoidable and drivers may feel just as terrible about the “poor puppy” as I do when I stumble upon one. It’s just… I can’t stop my heart from breaking when I see that.

Be careful. Please?