We live in Colorado where everyone has a dog. Most businesses are dog-friendly, meaning they have water bowls on the floor beside the counter for your furry friend's convenience. Every park has a pooper scooper bag dispenser. (If you don't already know what that is, I can't explain it. I refuse to get close enough to the dispenser to actually understand.) And yesterday at my chiropractor two dogs ran down the hall past my exam room chasing each other. No one stopped them or even acted like it was abnormal.

So yeah, there are a lot of dogs. And since I've moved here I catch myself doing a weird social thing where I talk to people's dogs instead of actually talking to people. For example, I'm walking down the stairs from my apartment to my car and my next door neighbor passes me with her two small dogs. I bend down and say, "Hello there. How are you doing today?" in a babytalk voice, smile briefly at my neighbor and keep walking.

I've been doing this for months and probably would have gone on doing it if Brian hadn't pointed it out last night on our walk. As we passed a woman with a chow, Brian said hello to the dog. And when we were out of ear shot he turned to me and said:

"Oh my gosh. I just said hello to her dog instead of her."

"Yeah, so." I replied. "I do that all the time."

"Well, don't you think there's something weird about that?"

Yes, now that I think about it I do. No wonder it's taken us two months of living in an enclosed apartment complex to finally meet the three couples who live within 20 feet of our front door. I spent the first 6 weeks talking to their pets! Why am I so afraid to risk polite conversation with strangers?

Sunday at church I snuck out of the service after communion to use the ladies room. There was another woman at the sink washing her hands with me. She said hello very confidently and made a comment about how the fourth floor ladies room had a line. As we were walking back to the sanctuary, she extended her hand and asked me what my name was. Hers was Alisha. I was so impressed with her. Impressed with her ability to introduce herself and make a flight of stairs worth of polite conversation. Which brings Brian's question back to mind, "Don't you think there's something weird about that?"

And again, I do. If I've become so inwardly focused and insecure that it's difficult to greet my neighbors and shocking when strangers talk to me, how am I going to make friends in a new city or share God's love with the people around me? Does anyone else deal with this struggle to relate?