Monday, November 2, 2026
On a random Tuesday, about three years ago, I was driving to the city pool. As I turned the corner, I noticed a little brown dog trotting down the sidewalk. By the time I pulled into the parking lot, I had lost sight of her. But just as I opened my car door, there she stood—looking up at me as if to say, “Hi daddy!”
It was the middle of the day, and a couple of city workers were standing nearby. I asked, “Whose dog is this?”
They just shrugged.
I patted the little canine on the head and told her, “If you wait, I’ll take you home.” In reality, I fully expected her to run along, and assumed I would never see her again.
But as I swam laps, I noticed her pointy ears sticking up through the wrought-iron fence surrounding the pool. The lifeguards were laughing and chatting. “Whose cute dog is that?” they asked, amused that she was just lying in the grass, completely content to wait for me.
Forty-five minutes later—after I had finished my laps, changed, and showered—I returned to the parking lot. She had glued herself to my driver’s side door.
So, I picked her up.
We went to the shelter, where they housed her for a week and placed her on the lost-and-found list. No one claimed her. The morning she became available for adoption, I was standing at the door right when they opened. They had already given her shots, microchipped her, and spayed her. Because it was September, they were running a free adoption event.
I was not looking for a pet, and she found me not looking to “own anything.”
Verily I say unto you: Truth comes when you are “not looking.” But you cannot seek to “not look;” for your heart’s desire catches you unawares. Taken by complete surprise.