I met a woman with a golden retriever. The dog’s head collar didn’t fit and yanked her all over the trail. I said something like, “My dog doesn’t like that collar, either.”
“Can you help me?”
The collar was too loose. I adjusted it, and the dog walked obediently.
In conversation I learned the golden had belonged to a friend, who was too depressed to care for it.
“She hasn’t gone to the bathroom in two days. Should I take her to the vet?”
“Is she grieving?”
“I don’t think so. She seems happy with me.”
The dog looked great, happy and beautiful, but change is hard on everybody. “She’s fine, Give her a few more days.” It was the answer the lady wanted, needed.
It’s funny how we look for answers from perfect strangers. I walked on thinking, what a good scene for the opening of a novel. A character, who doesn’t make friends easily meets one randomly walking someone else’s dog. The second character has trouble making decisions, and she’s insecure about the ones she’s already made.
I’ll never see this woman again. I don’t know her name, the dog’s name, or her depressed friend’s name. But I was able to solve her problem. Is that how things start? Randomly. I’ve always lived by the concept of “meant to be.” Maybe, I’ve assigned too much meaning to events. What if life is more a spin of the wheel than the synchronicity of the soul?
I told myself to keep my eyes open. Move forward.
CRISPLY SPOKEN 