I was just taking the first steps of my morning walk with my dog when she tugged at the leash. I let it go.

She ran towards a young man who had just parked his van a couple doors away and was examining the storage space in the back.

Maybe she just knew he was a “dog person.” She curled up at his feet until he started to pet her. He laughed good-naturedly.

India, my four-legged walking buddy, was basking in the attention. The man squatted close to the ground, not afraid to get a little dirty and meet her on her level.

“You have to pet your dog every day,” he said to me, smiling. “People forget that.”

Without needing any encouragement, I responded.

“Don’t worry about my dog. If she feels she’s not getting enough love at home, she has no problems inviting a stranger to pat her head or stroke her belly.”

We laughed then started to exchange bits of information.

“My dog is about seven,” I said, “I got her from foster when she was just over a year old.” Then, I added, pointing to my address. “I live on this block, a few doors west.”

He explained, “I do all sorts of jobs for my uncle. He owns an apartment building down the street. I was supposed to be at his place already.”

He stood at the back of his open van again. I saw small saws, thick, industrial extension cords, and big, orange-colored, slop buckets.

I looked at the open back door of his van and took in what he was wearing. I considered the few clues he passed along in conversation.

“Are you a handyman?” I asked.

Before he had a chance to answer, I blurted out, “My toilet needs fixing. I think it needs a new flushing assembly. The water runs all the time.” Then I added, as if apologizing, “I’m not good at this sort of thing.”

I don’t know why I felt compelled to frame my inquiry in such a way as if to highlight my shortcomings. I went on to make a joke of it. “And my dog does not do plumbing either… I’ll pay cash.”

Oh, the lament of the single girl, a sexagenarian at that, not confident about doing a household task herself, but recognizing the job might not be serious enough to warrant a plumber’s hourly fee.

He smiled. Yes, he could help me with this. I gave him my phone number after surprising him that I don’t always carry my phone with me and couldn’t record his.

“Can’t talk now,” he said, reviewing the small assortment of tools he laid out on the grass near the van. I watched him as he arranged the items to carry to his uncle’s. “I’m late for work.”

And he began taking long strides down the street.

“Don’t worry about the money.” He called back.

Sure enough, he texted the day and came over after work to size up the job. He ended up going with me to Home Depot where I bought a new toilet, which he got a friend to help install two days later.

He told me I could pay him whatever I wanted.

OMG. It was like an answer to my prayers.

Yes, my dog created the introduction, but I was ready to engage and looked into the open doors of his van. I let go of my thoughts on how something should happen, like reading a hundred Yelp reviews before selecting a contractor.

Paying attention to what is in front of you is important. Clues on your next opportunity can’t be ignored.
Keeping your eyes and heart open is no small thing.

Re-printed with permission.
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