A Chat in the Woods

She appeared unexpectedly just 40 yards up the trail. My first instinct was to look between the trees to see if she had a dog before Toast could get a glimpse of it and yank me off my bike with one of her sudden lunges. No dog—so I loosened my grip on the leash as we approached.

As the woman in peach came into clear view I noticed that she was slowing down, just like friends do when they prepare to greet each other for a brief chat on the sidewalk. I didn’t know who she was, although I think I had seen her walking on this trail before.

Her eyes lit up and she spoke with a big smile as I braked to a stop. She focused completely on Toast… “Oh, aren’t you a lovely little puppy? What’s your name?” She reached out to pet Toast, which was always agreeable to Toast. I was impressed with how friendly she was, and so plainly delighted at her good fortune. She marveled to me at how well-behaved Toast was. (If she only knew the truth.) “I would love to have a Golden,” she confided. “But it’s only me at home and I work all day. That wouldn’t be good for the dog.”

For the next few minutes we chatted on the trail. Comparing brief notes about life, and kids, and work. Two strangers drawn together almost as if by some Great Design, by means of the animal kingdom. It’s silly, really, that it takes an animal to facilitate social intercourse between two of the same human species.

I climbed back on my bike with Toast at my side. “Thank you for stopping,” she said. Thank you for stopping? It had been a no-brainer for me. She acted like she wanted to stop and pet my dog. (A common occurrence on my neighborhood trails.) So I stopped. Turns out that simple action brought a little delight into her life that day. Toast seems to have a knack for that. And somehow… I think it brings delight to God as well.

Next time I see this woman in peach I’m going to ask her if she’d like to dog-sit for an afternoon.