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July 1, 2009
The woman, gray-haired and rumpled in that academic/artistic/casual Upper West Side way, walks as if she either needs a new hip or has a replacement she's learning to accommodate. She's with a male counterpart and a medium-sized shaggy grayish dog. The dog resembles her more than the man does, down to the limp and easy smile.

"That's a great dog," I say, as we all cross Amsterdam. I point with a floppy hand to the dog and say, "There," even though he's the only dog around. I'm sure she wonders who let me wander away from my special school alone.