We were at the lake, my daily walking spot. I had brought a friend who needed to talk. Her head was down as if she were searching for meaning, hope and traces of God’s ways in the ruts of the muddy path. My head was down too, in silent solidarity. We walked.
Suddenly I missed a familiar pitter-patter—my dog was nowhere to be seen. I’d been deep in conversation and hadn’t missed her—for how long? Ten—15 minutes? I looked behind and ahead on the trail. I looked around the fishing jetties, wondering if she was bothering the fishermen with her high energy and playful spirit. No sign.