The dog story:

Sophy, myself and his entire family and friends from Battambang, Cambodia were driving in a two van caravan. That is two vans about 30 people total going to some destination in rural cambodia. The driver of van 1 and the leader of our expedition around Cambodia was kind of a rascally guy who I wouldn't exactly trust around my kids (if I had any). Anyways Sophy and I are in the front van being driven by said rascal. Van 2, driven by the rascal's equally questionable friend following close behind. We're driving through rural Cambodia--there are Cambodians (and accompanying children, cows, and other debris) occupying all roadside space selling gas, soda, chips or just sitting and doing nothing except being Cambodian.

On this rather dusty byway, there is a dog in the middle of the road with head buried in it's crotch, vigorously chewing itself. The road is bumpy and the van is going about 30 M.P.H. The driver says, in Khmer, "Hmm. I guess that dog is not moving" with about as much emotion as I would tell you the time of day. He then proceeded with similar lack of emotion to run over the poor mongrel without so much as thinking of applying the brakes. We hear a soft, fleshy thud as Van number 2 does exactly the same thing, this time the thud is louder. When we finally stopped at our destination about 10 minutes later, the driver of Van 2 says that our van hit the dog in the middle but he hit the dog with his tire, and thus made a louder thud. They talked about this like you or I would talk about what happened on Monday Night Football. The thing about it that astounded me was the fact that this was just not a problem for any of the 28 Cambodians at all. It was just like going over a speed bump to them. Meanwhile I'm trying hold back the tears and vomit caused by watching a dog die so...easily.