On Hitting a Deer

Here's the end of the story first: Everyone is okay. The car is damaged. The deer is dead. How very Tarantino of you, Whitney.

Last Thursday morning on the way to work, I hit a deer with the car.

Actually, if you get the story from Jack, he would say that the deer waited on the side of the road until our car came along and then decided to jump right in front of the car. Upon telling the story this way, he'll then ask you over and over WHY the deer did that. I have not encouraged the "deer suicide" theory, but he's apparently sticking by it rather than the "it was running through the field and didn't look both ways for road traffic" theory that I've gently suggested.

Anyway, deer come in twos (at least). And when you narrowly miss the first, you might as well squint your eyes and brace for the second.

How very, very sad. Leave it to the Hoodenpyle boys to take the edge off of the dreadful parts of this story though...

Jack immediately wondered aloud, "Will God give that deer's family another deer so that they won't be so sad?" And then cue Jim. He came along with his truck only a few minutes behind me, observing that someone had promptly picked up the deer from the middle of the road. "Maybe you just gave a hungry family their Christmas dinner. Let's think of it that way."

Thank you, boys.