14 May 2014


I had a dog for three weeks. I no longer have a dog, but that's not something I'm writing about here now or maybe ever.

But I had a dog, a dog named "Sunshine". "Sunshine" is an odd name for a dog that I'd own, largely because I'm not a 6 year old girl, but I am a pessimist. But also it's not exactly a common name for a dog either. But she came that way, and I figured one fewer change wouldn't hurt.

So about a week after I "rescue" her, I'm walking the dog on the streets surrounding my office. It's a little after lunch. I hear a woman's voice, presumably from a car judging from the rate of speed at which it faded away, yelling "SUUUUNNSHIIIINE". I immediately turned around and tried to find the source but was unsuccessful.

And it's weird. I'm not from Seattle, I didn't grow up here, or go to school here so I don't have a large network of acquaintances. If I were in my home town, I could conceivably expect for some classmate or cousin to call out my name and I wouldn't be able to place the voice. But for someone to yell the name of the dog I've had for all of a week, and had taken to work one time, well that's the domain of a limited group of people. I feel as though I could easily recognize the voice of any of my friends and I also think that they would tell me if they saw me. As for female acquaintances that would know my dog's name, I've run through the possibilities and the only person who I think it could be would be a neighbor. The time of day makes that seem very unlikely.

So after thinking about it a little more, there's another wrinkle. Maybe the person who yelled out the dog's name didn't know me at all. She's a distinctive looking dog (says everyone who's had a dog, about their dog). Maybe a previous owner recognized her. I have no idea what the dog's history was, so who knows. But especially as a previous owner myself now, it's remarkably weird to think about.