Saturday, July 4, 2009

Pancakes, Road Kill Style

I saw him sitting there from about 100 feet away. I admired his tiny cuteness as he put his little paws up to his mouth and stuffed something in his cheek pouches. I watched him put his paws down and crouch as he became aware of my vehicle barreling towards him. I diligently guesstimated how to straddle him with my tires to preserve his tiny self in all his cuteness.

I am not a good judge of distance. My tire hit him like a rolling pin hits dough, or a pasta roller makes noodles. He was instantly compressed into a round chipmunk fur disk, which I gazed at, horrified, in the rearview mirror. A tiny segment of my day, but one I spent more time than appropriate beating myself up about. I make big decisions that affect people's lives everyday, but I agonized over the fate of one slightly suicidal chipmunk for hours. Rational? Probably not entirely. But the people I deal with have a lot more options than that poor chipmunk, who chose to hunker down and wait for me to pass instead of zigzagging around in a panic on the asphalt.