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When I was a kid and we were living somewhat in the country, our redneck neighbor came home in his F150 drunk as usual one night and ran over our pitbull who was still just a puppy, about 2ft long. As I ran to him the guy parked his truck and hopped out, looked over at me as I was trying to figure out what to do, said "whoops", slammed his truck door and went inside his house. Not so much as a "sorry". Some people don't have a heart. I think I remember hearing about that guy crashing into a telephone pole months/years later and burning to death.
Ringo lived, somehow. The middle of his body was crushed and I didn't even want to pick him up, he was coughing/sneezing up blood. Thankfully there was another neighbor who was a vet. I don't know how he lived, pure miracle.
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