A Sad Conversation

The other day, I stepped out my front gate and noticed a boy about 8 years old going by on a little bike. He was the only kid on the street and I looked a little sharply at him, as kids had been ringing our bell from the street off and on during the last hour.

I locked my gate and started walking down the road. Some distance away, the child had gotten off his bike and was standing in the dry weeds on the side of the road, next to something. He looked at loose ends.

As I got closer, I saw that it was a large dog he was next to. The smell told me the dog had been dead a while, as did the bloated form. "Es un perro... muerto," I said. (It's a dog, dead.)

The boy glanced at me and said "mio." (Mine.)

He was somber but dry eyed. "Que lastima," I said. (What a pity.)

I asked if it had been hit by a car and he answered something I couldn't completely follow, but it seemed he was saying yes and adding details. Children's Spanish can be difficult to understand.

At a loss for words, I just said again "Que lastima" and continued on my way.

Que lastima. I was close to tears as I walked on.