Every morning as I’m walking my dog, I pass a woman walking her dog. She’s memorable because she zig-zags down the street. She walks from one side to the other, effectively doubling the distance they walk each day. She’s also talking to someone every morning through her AirPods.
It’s dark at this time of the year when we pass each other at 6:30 in the morning. My Great Dane shows no interest in her Schnauzer-ish dog, and he’s not interested in us, either. But she always says, “Good morning” to me. I always reply, but she doesn’t always hear me, because someone else’s voice is in her ear. So she’ll turn up the volume and repeat, “Good morning,” and I’ll repeat my reply.
Who does she talk to every morning? I picture someone else, a sister or child walking their dog at the same time, catching up on whatever happened since yesterday. I imagine it to be someone in Eastern Standard Time, since everyone else would still be asleep. But maybe it’s a friend in Europe, where it’s at least six hours later.
By the tone of her voice, it’s intense. A serious conversation. No nonsense. Almost aggressive.
I talk to God and the big dog when I walk. My words are upbeat, light-hearted, and at times, silly. (When you’re talking to a goofy Great Dane, it’s easy to be silly.) I have never had an early morning phone conversation. I don’t know who I’d call. All my friends are still sensibly sleeping at that time of the day.









