The Dog That Almost Killed Me

Keith Whitley’s song “Tell Lorrie I Love Her” was my college roommate Lorrie’s favorite, for obvious reasons. It’s been almost two decades since I saw Lorrie (that’s how old I am), but that song will always make me think of her, even though we did not part on the best of terms.

Lorrie wanted me to take care of her dog Annie, while she lived with her husband and new baby in an apartment that didn’t allow pets. And I did keep Annie, for several months.

But thing is, it’s no fun getting attached to someone else’s dog. You fall in love, even if you intend not to, all the while knowing you must give the dog back. This month’s Our State Magazine included a story by T. Edward Nickens about being a foster fail. It takes super strength to give away a dog you love. Six more months, Lorrie asked, maybe a year, and I said no.

Even though Annie was cute, a miniature brindled Jack Russel terrier of about ten pounds, with perky ears, wiry fur, and a waggy little tail. Sweet dog. The cutest. Until she almost killed me, and herself, too.

I was driving through Greenville, NC, turning through one of the biggest intersections in town – the four-lane four-way junction of Firetower Rd and College Rd, if you’re familiar.

I was driving my Toyota Paseo, which I miss something terrible. It was turquoise and shiny, low to the ground and great around curves. I’d like to take this moment to thank my mom for not only giving me a car for my 16^th birthday but making it a cool car. There was a dried-blood colored Oldsmobile in the running, too, and I really lucked out.

The windows were down, the music was up, and Annie was in my lap, her leash trailing into the passenger seat. Her head wasn’t in the window; she was just quietly sitting behind the steering wheel, watching the world go by.

Until she leaped from my lap and out the window.

I was, at that moment, turning the steering wheel with both hands. I mean: right in the middle of a major intersection.

So I let go of the steering wheel and grabbed the quickly disappearing leash. Thankfully, Annie’s collar was tight. She dangled by her neck from the driver’s side door. I couldn’t see her, but I could feel her weight at the end of the leash. As to what the other motorists saw…

I couldn’t stop driving without causing a crash. So slowly, still turning, I pulled her back in by the leash. Her weight remained steady at the end of the line.

Gradually, her little head, neck, shoulders, then body returned to my lap. I rolled up the damn window and pulled into the next parking lot, shaking. I decided Lorrie needed her dog back.

But she didn’t want the dog, yet. She had a newborn. I returned daredevil Annie anyway.

We’d been roommates just months before – it happened so fast. Nine months, I guess, but it seemed fast. Her boyfriend became her husband, and of course they moved out together. I got a new roommate, a girl from South Africa, who also got pregnant and moved out with her boyfriend. Maybe it’s me.

I wonder what happened to Lorrie. She was whip-smart, smarter than me. Smart enough to keep the window mostly rolled up with a dog in the car and not let it ride in your lap. A good mom, for sure. And a good friend.

So, if you’re reading this and know Lorrie who once lived with Jessi, tell Lorrie I love her.

– by Jessi Waugh