The Day I Tried to Save a Deer and Then the Police Came and Murdered Him and a Man I Thought Was a Marine Ate Him.

I have told this story before, but tonight I saw 6 deer and 8 police cars (not together) (actually, some of the deer WERE together, but they weren’t with the police) while I was driving and that made me think of this and then I felt the need to rewrite it for the one person who has not yet heard this story so that they, too, will be as traumatized as I was (am).
The Boy and I were driving down a busy street and I saw a deer lying on the side of the road. He had obviously been hit by a car, but he was still alive. I freaked out and made The Boy pull over into a shopping center so that I could go and save the deer with what I thought were my Saint Francis-like healing powers. The Boy chose to stay in the car. I went to the deer. He moved to the street and fell and laid down in the middle of the lane. I stood next to him to indicate that cars should not run him over. I called the police and told them there was an injured deer and he needed to be saved, because police save people. I was squatting in the middle of the busy street petting the deer and telling him not to worry, the police would come and save him. I also began to channel Saint Francis and envisioned the deer standing up, thanking me, and then coming home with me to be my friend. In my mind, I was comforting the deer and letting him know all would be well. In retrospect, I was probably just scaring the crap out of him. A giant truck stopped and blocked traffic so that the deer and I would not get run over, and a man who I thought must be in the military got out. He was wearing all camouflage. I thought the United States Military had been sent to help me save the deer. The man walked up to me and told me I was stupid for petting a deer in the middle of a busy road because I could get hit by a car or the deer’s friends could come and kick my ass. I opted to keep petting the deer because I am pretty sure any deer would sense my animal love and want to be my friend, not kill me. A policeman and a policelady came and they stood with the fake military man and said “Do either of you want to keep him?” I thought that was fantastic, they were going to save him and then I would get to keep him as a pet. The fake military man spoke first, though, and said that he had room in his truck. That confused me because I was still waiting for an ambulance or something. Then the policelady pulled out her gun.

Here’s an aside to explain my feelings for guns. They terrify me. I was in a police station once and there were police people all around with guns and I stood frozen in horror. Policemen shop at my store and I can’t ring them out or interact with them because I can see the freaking gun sitting there, waiting to kill me, on their belt. The very sight of one is enough to send me in to a panic, which usually means I run in a circle and flap my arms around and stutter. Afterwards I usually need to take large amounts of sedatives and/or alcohol.

So she pulled out her gun. Guess what I did? The thing I was stuttering while I was running in a circle and flapping was “Are you going to use that?” The three of them watched me with their mouths slightly open, and she said “Yes”. I then stuttered (and ran and flapped), “IN FRONT OF ME???”. She said “Not if you leave fast enough”. The last thing I said was “You were supposed to save him”, but I didn’t hear the reply because I stopped running in a circle and ran in a straight line, back towards the car in the shopping plaza, which was actually about 1/8 of a mile away. Apart from running in circles when traumatized, I do not run. I duck and cover, but I do not run. I freeze and stand very still and hope that whatever is chasing me will not notice me, but I Do Not Run. My version of running was to hold my arms in a T-Rex position in front of me and clomp down the busy street in a very ungraceful way. They laughed loud enough for me to hear the entire time I was running and then I heard the gun shot. She waited about 5 seconds for a fat girl to run like a T-Rex down the street before she murdered the deer I had befriended. I took a lot of sedatives when I got in the car.

Oh, and for the record, I have since been told the nice military man was not nice and not in the military. He was a hunter, and hunters are Very Bad, and he wanted to keep the deer, not to rehabilitate him, but to eat him.