Some people say there are no coincidences.  Maybe every single thing that happens is pre-destined.  I don't know.  I do know that there have been times in my life when a couple of things happened at the same time, or at associated times.

I can't say what is the strangest coincidence I've ever experienced, but I have a sort of weird story that has evolved over 25 years.  It involves stray dogs, my cousin Joan and Bruce Springsteen.

I think journalists call that burying the lead, but here goes. 

In 1984 I was partying with friends at the famous Stone Pony in Asbury Park, NJ.  This club earned its fame because of Bruce Springsteen.  On one particular September night in 1984, Bruce happened to drop by to listen to the band that was playing.  Cool, huh?  As I was enjoying the evening out, my friend's brother and girlfriend showed up.  They were searching for someone, anyone, who could take a stray dog they'd found rooting through their apartment building's garbage cans. 

We left the Pony and went outside to see the dog.  Poor thing!  It was a starving, emaciated, flea-stricken Irish Setter.  The brother had tried to find shelter for it but animal control wouldn't come out that late and he couldn't keep it in his apartment.  My heart broke looking at its skinny body and the fearful expression in its eyes.  "I'll take him," I exclaimed.  About that time, Bruce strolled out of the bar.  My friends knew him and everybody exchanged hellos and goodnights.  As big a fan of Bruce as I was even back then, I couldn't focus on anything but the dog.

My original intent was to find him shelter the next day.  Unfortunately, I was told that if nobody adopted him in seven days, he'd be euthanized and the chances of someone taking home a starving dog were very slight.  So, I decided I'd take him to the vet, get him checked out, and care for him until he was well and could be adopted.

I did just that, but I was the one who adopted him.  Bailey was my beloved boy for the remaining 10 years of his life.  A sweeter dog never lived.

Flash forward to last December.  I was up in South Miami doing some shopping with a good friend when a pretty, black pit bull-mix dog ran up to us.  No tags, no collar.  I tried to hold on to her and couldn't.  We then watched while she darted around in traffic, narrowly avoiding getting hit.  We spent a good chunk of time tracking her down, losing sight of her across lanes of cars, but finally spotting her on a side-street.  Thankfully, this time she came right to me when I called.  I looped my handbag shoulder strap into a makeshift leash.  In the middle of this, my cousin Joan called.  Joan and I don't get a chance to talk frequently, so I hated telling her I'd have to call her back but she understood.  I dialed her about an hour later when I was en route to an animal shelter that promised to take the dog and do their best to get her adopted.

Last month, I flew up to Greensboro, N.C. to see Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band concert with friends.  After flying home, I was in the car driving back to the Keys when a car accident happened right in front of me.  Luckily, I avoided the collision and pulled over to see if I could help the people whose car had been hit.  A dog jumped out of their car and, clearly spooked, almost got hit by traffic.  The driver tried to get the dog, but he was also trying to help his injured girlfriend.  So, I called to it and she ran to me.  I had Nat and Pyxi's (My two dogs) leashes in the car and was able to loop one to keep the Shepherd mix from dodging out into traffic again.

It turns out that the people in the car were taking the dog to a shelter.  The dog's soldier owner had been deployed overseas and her husband either couldn't or wasn't willing to care for the dog.  With their car windshield shattered and the woman shaken up, there was no way the couple could continue their trip.  The poor driver had this panicked look when he realized he didn't know what he could do now with the dog.

I thought about it for a few seconds and then asked him if he wanted me to call the director of the shelter in my town.  (Thank goodness I know her and have her cell number.)  He said yes, so a couple of hours later after the highway patrol and the emts had been there and I'd given my witness statement, I headed down the road with the dog in my car.

No long after, my cousin called out of the blue. 

"Joan, you aren't going to believe this," I laughed. 

"What?  Did you rescue another dog from the side of the road?"

"Well, as a matter of fact . . ."

So, first dog -- Springsteen.  Second dog -- cousin.  Third dog -- cousin when I'm driving home from seeing Springsteen.

Yep, I'd call that a coincidence.  Wouldn't you?