As the doorman ducked behind a potted evergreen, he smiled and started to howl, head tilted slightly back and eyes half-closed, as if to improve the impersonation. I was running past on my way to the gym. A furtive, howling guy in a uniform? Smiling?
No sooner was the question posed than the answer came trotting toward me at the end of a leash. Fifty feet away and closing, a largish terrier type with floppy ears and a coat of assorted grays started to bark at the invisible provocation. The woman restraining him smiled broadly as dog and doorman harmonized. At about 15 feet I joined in with my own reckless chorus of yips, which prompted the dog to look up at me with a "who the hell are you" tilt of his head.
And then I was past him but we were all still at it, two barking bipeds and one aggrieved quadruped, making a racket on Sunday night in Hell's Kitchen.
Sunday, March 19, 2006
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