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There's a short story I probably read in the 60s or 70s. I believe it may have been in the first person by someone who was looking through newspaper articles about strange occurrences involving small scale time-displacements.

Examples included a house having a strange stripe on its exterior that turns out to have been the result of that section of the house reverting to its state at a previous time, before the house had been painted. Another example involved a woman who was coming home from work every day and a strange dog would be waiting for her, expecting her to let it into the house. Each day the dog appeared in a more and more starved condition and finally stopped showing up. Later the woman adopted a puppy and one day when it was grown, it disappeared... then she realized it had been the same dog... and had been transported backwards into time. (Perhaps you can see why I have lost some sleep about this one over the years).

For years I was confident this was sitting on my shelves in an anthology, but I can not find it now. It might have been in SF Hall of Fame vol. 1, which I no longer have in my possession.

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I've read it, I have it, but it is in storage. This is gonna bug me all day, but perhaps it'll come to me. –  SQB Feb 12 at 6:59
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Also, the stripe on the house was the result of a section of a coat of paint applied in the future being transported to the present. The owner removed it again and again. Then, when he decided to paint the house later, a section of it was removed again and again... –  SQB Feb 12 at 7:04
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I'm pretty certain that it's not in SF Hall of Fame Vol. 1. –  Mike Scott Feb 12 at 7:09

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"I'm Scared" by Jack Finney, originally published in the Sept. 15, 1951, issue of Collier's. You may have read it in one of these collections.

Examples included a house having a strange stripe on its exterior that turns out to have been the result of that section of the house reverting to its state at a previous time, before the house had been painted.

Actually the stripe is from the house being painted in the future:

On July 20, 1950, Mr. Trachnor told me, he walked out on the front porch of his house about six o'clock in the morning. Running from the eaves of his house to the floor of the porch was a streak of gray paint, still damp. "It was about the width of an eight-inch brush," Mr. Trachnor told me, "and it looked like hell, because the house was white. I figured some kids did it in the night for a joke, but if they did, they had to get a ladder up to the eaves and you wouldn't figure they'd go to that much trouble. It wasn't smeared, either; it was a careful job, a nice even stripe down the front of the house."

Mr. Trachnor got a ladder and cleaned off the gray paint with turpentine.

In October of that same year Mr. Trachnor painted his house. "The white hadn't held up so good, so I painted it gray. I got to the front and finished about five one Saturday afternoon. Next morning when I came out I saw a streak of white right down the front of the house. I figured it was the damn kids again, because it was the same place as before. But when I looked close, I saw it wasn't new paint; it was the old white I'd painted over. Somebody had done a nice careful job of cleaning off the new paint in a long stripe about eight inches wide right down from the eaves! Now who the hell would go to that trouble? I just can't figure it out."

Another example involved a woman who was coming home from work every day and a strange dog would be waiting for her, expecting her to let it into the house. Each day the dog appeared in a more and more starved condition and finally stopped showing up. Later the woman adopted a puppy and one day when it was grown, it disappeared... then she realized it had been the same dog... and had been transported backwards into time.

In October 1947, about eleven at night, Miss Eisenberg left her apartment to walk to the drugstore for toothpaste. On her way back, not far from her apartment, a large black-and-white dog ran up to her and put his front paws on her chest.

"I made the mistake of petting him," Miss Eisenberg told me, "and from then on he simply wouldn't leave. When I went into the lobby of my building, I actually had to push him away to get the door closed. I felt sorry for him, poor hound, and a little guilty, because he was still sitting at the door an hour later when I looked out my front window."

The dog remained in the neighborhood for three days, discovering and greeting Miss Eisenberg with wild affection each time she approached on the street. "When I'd get on the bus in the morning to go to work, he'd sit on the curb looking after me in the most mournful way, poor thing. I wanted to take him in, but I knew he'd never go home then, and I was afraid whoever owned him would be sorry to lose him. No one in the neighborhood knew whom he belonged to, and finally he disappeared."

Two years later a friend gave Miss Eisenberg a three-week-old puppy. "My apartment is really too small for a dog, but he was such a darling I couldn't resist. Well, he grew up into a nice big dog who ate more than I did."

Since the neighborhood was quiet, and the dog well behaved, Miss Eisenberg usually unleashed him when she walked him at night, for he never strayed far. "One night--I'd last seen him sniffing around in the dark a few doors down--I called to him and he didn't come back. And he never did; I never saw him again.

"Now our street is a solid wall of brownstone buildings on both sides, with locked doors and no areaways. He couldn't have disappeared lake that, he just couldn't. But he did."

Miss Eisenberg hunted for her dog for many days afterward, inquired of neighbors, put ads in the papers, but she never found him. "Then one night I was getting ready for bed; I happened to glance out the front window down at the street, and suddenly I remembered something I'd forgotten all about. I remembered the dog I'd chased away over two years before." Miss Eisenberg looked at me for a moment, then she said flatly, "It was the same dog. If you own a dog you know him, you can't be mistaken, and I tell you it was the same dog. Whether it makes sense or not, my dog was lost--I chased him away--two years before he was born."

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That's the one I meant. I must've read it in Tomorrow, the Stars. –  SQB Feb 12 at 9:45
    
Wonderful! Thanks to you both @user14111 and @ATS! Yes, I read it in Tomorrow, the Stars. –  Curious One Feb 12 at 17:17

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