This morning, a car stopped up on Lloyd and the woman driving asked me if I had lost my dog.
“I did, but not like you mean. She died.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. I just see you out here walking a pit bull all the time and I saw a pit bull up on the ridge running around and I thought, if it was your dog, I could put you two back… I’m so sorry.”
“We’ve seen that dog, too. But it looks well-fed so we think it has a home.”
“I’m just so sorry about your dog.”
“It’s okay. She was fourteen.”
“But that’s just a baby.”
And I had to laugh, because, though, when she was alive, I regularly teased her by calling her “grandma,” it does, in retrospect, seem like she was so young.
But, it also made me laugh that we’d apparently become such a regular sight up on Lloyd that her absence is noticeable to the cars that regularly drive it in the morning.