In a fit of anxiety, I decided to go “jogging” last night. For me, jogging consists of alternating between shuffling and walking. And these days, there’s more walking than jogging since I’ve been smoking half a pack of cigarettes a day. (Don’t worry — I can stop anytime.)

There’s no way I would ever go jogging if it weren’t for the trails that run through the greenspace behind my condo. As I was making my way through the network of trails, I took a wrong turn and ended up running into someone’s back yard.

What I saw stunned me.

In the groomed back yard was a treehouse and a play structure with a long slide and several swings. Between the treehouse and play structure was a rope hanging from an impossibly tall tree. I’m not certain, but I imagine you could swing Tarzan-style between the treehouse and the play structure.

Inside the house were shiny people ranging from all ages. A grandmother was sitting in a big chair. There were three adults who all touched each other affectionately several times. The older children were in a circle on the floor, playing a board game or cards. A couple of toddlers too young to play the game bounced in and out of sight. The glow of a fire lit the room.

Outside the sliding glass door was a medium-sized yellow dog. The dog wanted in. Badly. It was whimpering loud enough for me to hear it, but the the people inside the house didn’t seem to notice. I like to think music was playing, because it would seem too cruel for them to ignore the dog. The dog sat erect for a long time — at least a half hour – every now and then walking in a little circle and then resuming his stance.

I wanted so badly for someone to open the door and let the dog in.