Dog spelled backwards…
It’s Monday morning at 8:30 as I enter Central Park at West 72nd Street. I’ve done this trip before so I expect to see dogs. New York loves dogs and Central Park is Manhattan Island’s biggest dog run. For no particular reason, I decide to count how many dogs cross my path before I exit the Park at East 60th Street.
Even a cat lover like me can appreciate a dose of early AM canine energy.
I’m past 30 as I stroll by the Sheep Meadow Café: dogs of all shapes, sizes, ages, and breeds. Human companions almost as equally diverse. By the time I reach the Mall, I’ve encountered 60 dogs. When I get to Balto, it’s over 70.
As I approach the zoo, the dogs are now on leashes but no less plentiful. The artists are setting up shop for the day when I hit 80. I glance up at an American Elm and see a solitary raccoon watching me…and all the dogs.
Just before I exit the Park on my way to the W Train, Dog #81 strolls by and I’m sure it’s gonna be a good day.
(Mickey Z. can be found at www.mickeyz.net)
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