Small children and dogs

Sometimes I know with certainty that Sandy is communicating with me. More often, I'm not sure, but I consciously choose to believe, in the moment, that she's sending a message of love. I feel no need to defend or explain why I think something is from her, because I honestly don't know. What I do know is that choosing to believe it's her makes me feel less lost and alone, and that's something I need right now.

As I walked home after brunch with a friend last Sunday, a small child broke away from her mother to run toward me, waving, and saying "Hello!" Another time, a young boy climbed up on a bench in a restaurant window to press against the glass and wave at me as I passed, with his mother waiting patiently behind him, trying to put his coat on. Now and then, for a couple of days at a time, dogs find me irresistible, no matter what I'm wearing or where I'm going; they treat me the way dogs always treated Sandy - like they've found the lifelong friend they'd sought.

Neither dogs nor children usually run away from me screaming, but until recently, I've never really been a magnet for either. Sandy, on the other hand, attracted both.

Sandy's friends Ernie and Bert - especially Ernie - were
always sad when we had to leave. They were nice enough
to me but they really loved Sandy.

Sandy was part dog, we always said: enthusiastic, eager to play, wanting to be told what to do, trying to please. Dogs ran straight to her, and then didn't want to leave her, whereas they accepted my petting only if Sandy was busy with another dog.

Meanwhile, these little people? They're of the age we referred to as "Sandy's children." She had a particular weakness for kids who were old enough to move around on two feet but who still wobbled. Old enough to have a personality, but not old enough to try to hide it. Basically, the 18-month–to–3-year-old set.

We'd be sitting somewhere and see some cute kids of that age, and Sandy would say, "We could take that one." I'd look around to see if anyone had heard us, and then I'd remind her that parents get nervous when they hear things like that; they don't know that she's joking. I'm amazed no one ever summoned police or pulled out pepper spray.

It seems appropriate now that I keep getting attention from small children and dogs. Sandy's natural affinity with both would make it easier, I'd expect, to communicate through them. Or maybe her energy is accompanying me, so that she's not talking through them but they're reacting to her? Either way, being greeted enthusiastically out in the world makes it just a hair easier not to have her here to beam at me when I arrive home.