My roommate and I recently visited Carl Schurz Park on 86th right off the East River as an attempt to make something of a boring Saturday afternoon. Upon returning to the city back in August, I've noticed more and more people out and about with their dogs. I don't think I've gone a day so far without seeing at least a handful of dogs leading their owners down the sidewalk. The sounds of leaves whooshing and blowing in the wind are subtly layered by the jiggling of metallic dog collars and the occasional bark. Strangers, whose dogs confidently approach one another to size each other up, bring up idle chatter (“What’s his name?” “How old is he?” “He’s a real friendly boy.”) to make light of this unexpected meeting. As I lie on my roommate’s picnic blanket while she reads next to me, the crisp pages from a new book occasionally let me know that she’s turned to the next page. I also hear the couples sitting all around me, some within earshot while others sit further away, ...