It was a beautiful day yesterday. It was gray and cloudy and drizzled the better part of the day. But it was mid-sixties. I was up early and took Kallie for a walk before the at-home work day began. I love when it’s damp or wet outside and her Chow-fro is revealed.

While on our walk in the early morning, with dawn just breaking the stillness in the neighborhood was undeniably solemn for me. Looking around as a few early birds hurried in the dim morning light to their cars or to the “L” as we moseyed down the sidewalk, Kallie sniffing around or doing some business. These types of ordinary moments fill me with such gratitude. After my experiences with loving and losing Ken over the past few years, I can’t help but consider in one of the buildings that Kallie and I pass there is probably someone dealing with a serious health issue, and (I hope) he or she has a spouse who is dealing with it along side of him/her. I know waking up to to a beautiful day isn’t as lovely for everyone.

These are thoughts that cross my mind early in the morning as I walk with my companion through my neighborhood.

As the day progressed Kallie let me know that she had some extra energy to burn, so I decided to splurge on a hump day visit to the dog park we usually visit on the weekend. There is something so easy about social interaction–that I have readily shunned for over a year–with dogs that makes it easy, fun and enjoyable in a way that would never work if you took the canine’s out of the equation. The focus is on them and their well being. How they interact is such a great metaphor for how humans should be. Dogs seem to get over things quickly and hold no grudges. Play is the only item on the agenda. Watching them is relaxing, and almost meditative. I think I’m a dog park addict.

We met a Great Dane on this day. He was the size of a small horse, and dwarfed all his comrades.

On my first weeknight visit, I started talking to another guy who had a Welch Terrier names Ruffles. (Another thing about the dog park is I can usually remember the dog’s names, but have a more difficult time with the human ones.) Somehow during the conversation he asked me if I was married. And I had a bit of a short circuit. The answer is clearly “no”. Moreover, the answer for a complete stranger should be easily, “no.” But I had an overwhelming and unstoppable urge to explain that I was a widower. I couldn’t not acknowledge that I’d been in a relationship–as it had been an exceptional one. Even as I spoke the words, I wondered if it was really necessary–in this circumstance. He was very kind and expressed his sympathies, then our conversation moved on. But I still kicked my ridiculous self for a while after.

Thankfully, it’s easy to get distracted by dog cuteness.