I heard two disturbing stories this weekend.

A van full of one mother, two daughters (a teenager and an 8-year-old) and one dog was hit by a snow plow when it lost control on the snowy roads this weekend. Everyone died, including the dog. And for three seconds, the death of the dog made me the most upset.

A man, elsewhere, is crediting his 8-year-old dog, Dude, for saving his life this weekend. Dude was, apparently, yelping outside the man's house, and when the man went to see what the fuss was about, he encountered a 500-pound black bear, which proceeded to lunge at him when he stepped outside. Dude, already having been attacked a bit, jumped between the man and the bear. The bear came down full-force onto Dude, proceeded to attack the crap out of him, and then haul him away into the woods. Or something. The man survived. Dude did not. After hearing this story, I had hoped it was the man who was hauled into the woods, not poor Dude.

I tend to have the feeling that animals do not deserve to be beaten, mistreated or killed in any way, shape or form. The poor, little buggers. And when I hear of a person (generally this person tends to be a man) beating their pet, I often feel (and say out loud) that they should, instead, beat their wife.

Oh my God, I'm so sorry I just said that out loud. Please forgive me.

krittabug