What kind of human would do this?

As the hours and miles passed by on the highway and Jessie peacefully slept, my mind wandered. What kind of human would abuse a dog? It was a deep, bottomless question that I thought about for hundreds and hundreds of miles. She had repeatedly been abused. Each scar, puncture wound and ounce of fear had a beginning Each one was a story in and of itself. Sadly, it was multiple events by multiple people and multiple stories. I would never know the details of each, but it was easy to conclude that each event was horrific. All done at the hands of humans. I wondered what type of life those people led that caused them to take such violent action against a helpless stray dog--a dog who was merely trying to survive in the world on her own. What was it in their stories that made them lash out in such violence? What parenting did they receive or not receive? Who influenced their lives to get them to wrap a young dog's neck in barbed wire and leave her to bleed to death? Why did life not have any value? When she thought she had a home, why was she abandoned time and time again? Why wasn't there any sympathy, empathy or compassion for this sweet soul? Why on Earth would someone think the best way to teach a dog a lesson to not bark at a weed whacker would be to hit her in the mouth with it? It was startling to realize that it wasn't just one person in the world who had this cruelty raging within them--it was a lot of people. And Jessie met them. I was washed over with a sense of hopelessness for all of society. I felt a deep emptiness for the state of the world. My eyes were wet and my body ached. It was now dark and we had driven for ten hours so far. There were few cars on the endless highway and light only came from semi-trucks as they barreled past us. As I drove and drove a small voice started to rebuke the hopelessness. It quietly whispered, "Do something."