P.S. Her Name Was Shannon

Even though the sidewalk appears empty, in my mind's eye, 
I still see my frisky red companion trotting along up ahead of me. 

It happened again today.

This time, I was stepping off the corner of Chennault Beach Road and 107th Street SW, just about to cross the street into my neighborhood, when I heard a voice call out.

"Excuse me. Excuse me!"

I turned round to see a woman behind me, emerging from a car that she had clearly just pulled to the curb. In fact, I realized only seconds before, she had driven past me on the corner where I had been waiting to cross.

I paused. I didn't know this person.

"Are you the one who used to walk a beautiful big dog on a long, long (her arms fully outstretched in illustration) leash?"

Haha. Umm. Yes.that would be me.

Knowing where this conversation was about to go, I hesitated to answer the question as I walked back toward her, as she came toward me.When we met on corner, she took both my hands and looked deep into my eyes.

Remember, I have never seen this woman in my life.

Yes, that was me. 

Her eyes filled with tears.

He died

She hugged me.
She told me how sorry she was to hear that.
She described in great detail my dog's sparkling spirit and spanking good humor.
She mentioned that over the years, she and her husband talked about my dog regularly, and lately have been worried about his absence. Her husband didn't want her to ask me about it for fear of upsetting me.

My eyes filled with tears.

Yes, he's gone. He was ready. He lived a good life.

She hugged me again.
She told me that she loved me.

I've never had anyone tell me they love me before they even tell me their name.

But you know, when you share life with a dog like Ranger, you get used to some pretty amazing things.