In our region of the United States, it is wise to regularly inspect the area around and beneath your car to ensure that wildlife hasn’t made it into a home. When a good-hearted woman saw a baby deer dozing beneath someone else’s automobile tire, she made the decision to intervene.
A woman wanted to make sure the car’s driver was aware that a baby deer was sleeping beneath a tire, so she shared this Facebook post, which quickly gained popularity.
The responses were heartfelt and occasionally humorous. Joshua Kevin Nye’s comment is the most well-liked one thus far:
You know it was an elderly woman, but how? Why, if you saw her, didn’t she just write a message instead of telling you there was a blasted deer under the tire? I’m looking for clarification!
Another comedian expressed their hope that the motorist was literate. I suppose you can’t always get that conclusion from the way some people drive.
Cyntha Atkinson was among the kinder individuals who valued this woman’s action:
Thank you for leaving the note, kind woman.
Thank you, Cyntha. One has to admire the heart of those who, rather than choosing to carry on with their lives as usual, choose to make a difference.
Would you have continued living your life, left a note, or attempted to get the deer to come out from under the car?
My husband threw all my paintings away. I decided to give him a real lesson now
When I discovered Tim had thrown away my paintings, it felt like a piece of my soul had been ripped away. Each stroke of paint, each color combination, each image on the canvas represented hours of joy, frustration, and fulfillment. But to him, they were nothing but “junk.”
A Moment of Realization
That evening, exhausted from work, I decided to revisit an old painting that I believed had more potential. The idea of reworking it filled me with a rare excitement. However, my anticipation turned to horror when I descended into the basement, only to find it empty. The walls were bare, the shelves clean, and my paintings—gone. I stood there in shock, a cold sense of loss washing over me. How could he do this? How could he erase a part of my life so carelessly?
Confrontation and Anger
I stormed upstairs, fury bubbling inside me. There he was, lounging on the couch, engrossed in a football game, a bag of chips in hand. “Tim! Where are my f***ing paintings?” I demanded, my voice shaking with rage.
He glanced at me nonchalantly and said, “Oh, honey, relax. You should be thanking me for taking out that junk.”
For Illustrative purpose only
His dismissive attitude was the final straw. I exploded in anger, yelling at him, but he remained unbothered, barely acknowledging my distress. It was clear he didn’t understand or care about the pain he’d caused.
The Plan for Revenge
As I stood there, seething, a plan began to form in my mind. If he could so casually discard something that meant so much to me, then he deserved a taste of his own medicine. I decided to retaliate in a way that would hit him where it hurt the most.
For Illustrative purpose only
The next day, I waited until Tim left for work. Fueled by a sense of righteous indignation, I methodically gathered all his cherished belongings—his prized football memorabilia, his vintage record collection, even his favorite recliner. I loaded everything into the back of my car and drove to the nearest charity shop. Watching the workers unload his precious items, I felt a twisted sense of satisfaction. Let’s see how he likes it, I thought.
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