Puppyland

I didn’t like dog people. But now I am one.

I live in Puppyland. That’s what my Brooklyn neighborhood has become. Amidst the bags of recycling on the curbs, empty storefronts, and masked teens trying desperately to socialize outside the pizza place, puppies dot the landscape. Mostly mini labradoodles, but also a baby dachshund named Hazel, a very small Boston terrier called Winston, and a fluffball goldendoodle who goes by Henry. My kids and I know their names because we became those annoying people who stop nearly every owner to ask, “Can we pet your dog?”

Full confession: I’d never particularly liked dogs. Or, I should say, I’d never particularly liked dog people. The way they anthropomorphized their pets, took over the park, and left poop smeared across the sidewalk outside my house irritated the crap out of me. I’m allergic to cats, but I’d always preferred their aloof cool to the blatant eagerness dogs displayed, which their owners seemed to mimc.

Darryl

But I’ve been reformed. Halfway through 2020, with the world feeling like a very dark place, we started spending time with my brother’s girlfriend and her golden retriever, Darryl. He was always happy to see us. He thought we were…