Happy to be wrong

At the beginning of last November, I posted Life’s Grandest Question which tells of a shared experience with a dog-loving neighbor. I called him Mr. Johnson. While on my regular dog-walking route, I was shocked to see a much beaten down—but not beaten—Mr. Johnson, hunched over, skin gray and sallow. That day, just three months ago, I was confident that I would never see him alive again.

And so, imagine my shock today when I spied Mr. Johnson slowly maneuvering his stooped form into the passen...