Earlier in the day I took my little Daschund out for a walk. As we were returning home, a young man stood across the street from the renascent house on Madison. He looked a little bit suspicious, like he had just planted a bomb and was curious to see it blow-up. Heidi took one look at him and began, from across the street, to bark like a furry, little car alarm. He gave her a slightly aggrieved look, like a villain about to twirl his mustache. I hate it when a dog barks at me no apparent reason. It fills me with self-doubt, and I convince myself that the animal has somehow seen through my civilized veneer and was reacting to my corrupt and evil core. Because of this, I shouted an apology at the guy, making up some excuse about her freaking out because she spotted a particularly hated cat on the lawn behind him. Still looking like he disliked and distrusted the world, he just sort of nodded, moving closer to the shade of the tree he was protecting himself beneath.
Immediately upon crossing the street, there was a smiling elderly woman, moving gingerly, oh, so gingerly down the sidewalk. Heidi loved her, in spite of never having met her before, and immediately began to run in delirious circles of joy. This made the woman beam. Oh, she was so happy, such an unexpectedly blessed moment in her day! She bent down with great difficulty and began to pet Heidi, run her fingers over her ears, our dog leaning toward her like a plant to the sun, and the woman just smiled, “so soft, oh, she’s so soft!”