Taking (or trying to take) 3 walks a day, you see certain faces. In the morning, I always see the guy with the blind dog. I’ve never known this man’s name. I just refer to him as the guy with the blind dog. Only his blind dog died, and he got a new dog. I know the dog’s name, because the guy with the blind dog calls the dog’s name, Odie, every time I see him. Odie has a hoarse bark, and a strange looking sore on his leg. He barked hoarsely at me yesterday, while his owner gently chided him. His barking set off the dogs across the street, in the new neighbors’ house. They (the dogs) are still pretty high strung, and bark all the time. The other dogs on the street are pretty quiet. Eerily so. There is rarely any sign of life on our street during the day time. Odie went running after the barking dogs—trapped inside their new house. I thought he was coming after me at first. . .

That sore on Odie’s leg reminds me of that librarian guy’s dog. I used to know his name, but I forgot it. Now he’s just that librarian from my jr. high that had a heart attack a few years ago. The Librarian is really fat again. After the heart attack he had lost quite a bit of weight and had become active. I saw him riding a really nice bike once this summer, and thought, that’s good, he’s trying to stay in shape. He used to have two Dalmatians, but one of them died. “he was really old,” the Librarian told me. Somehow, I thought those dogs were young. They too had been high strung when they’d moved in a few years ago. I just noticed that I don’t hear them barking much any more. The remaining dog is brown and white, with a sore on his leg like Odie’s. I wonder if he’s old too.

Carrie, who lives next door to the Librarian, who lives next door to the guy with the blind dog, came out of her house in all black as I made it down the street. Finishing my first lap with four children, I know I was quite the spectacle, especially as Imani tried to hold Joy’s hand while I held Joy’s other hand, and Esteban on my other side, with Yanni bouncing a basketball alongside. Carrie looked so tiny in all black. Like a child, until you saw her face. We exchanged pleasantries and went on our way. I dropped the children off at home and went on to walk my second lap around the block.

In the afternoon, I saw a man with a hood and a white shipoo. As I got closer, I recognized the dog. I thought, that’s Gary, Katie’s neighbor, who fixed my bike this summer. I caught his attention and just said hi. I didn’t feel like dealing with him not recognizing me, and if I would *gasp* have to reintroduce myself.

I actually do know other people on my street by name. I just didn’t see them yesterday. Or their dogs.