When I was about eleven years old, my younger brother and I had a ten month male German Shepherd dog whose name was Benji. We always played with Benji in the afternoon and we were so happy at that time.
One day, my brother and I went to the park to play soccer and we also took Benji. The park was located only 100 meters from our house. Benji was tied up to the tree in the park to keep him safe. There were three other dogs were also tied up in the park.
When we were playing with friends, the ball often got kicked out of the park. Suddenly, when the ball went out of the park, Benji got loose from his strap and ran very fast to the ball on the road. I still remember that Benji was trying to get the ball when a big red jeep ran over him right on his face. All that happened so fast and that was hit and run. Blood was all over his body. I froze for a second and my brother started to cry. Then I ran back home and asked somebody to drive Benji to a veterinarian.
Benji was covered with a sarong when we took him by car, but he died on the journey. Next day, we buried Benji on the land beside the river near our house.
It happened in May 1996, only two months before my twelfth birthday. I was so sad and depressed for a week. I was regretful because I could not remember the licence number of the car which hit Benji.