I was riding my bike to the train station. With me was a large dog that was very old and sick. I was carrying it in a large white sling. Behind us in a trailer were all the things we would need in New York City, like dog food and clean towels. The dog was well-behaved, and I could sense from it which streets I should take for the fastest route to the station. The streets were empty as we rode along together, and I thought how relieved I would be when we finally got to New York and could relax.
When we reached the station, an attendant looked at the dog in the sling, then at me, and said, ‘Unfortunately, the train that goes to New York City rides through the station too fast for anyone to actually get on.’
I wondered if we should continue the trip by bike. I looked into the dog’s eyes. I could tell that it wanted to go home, and suddenly I was angry. ‘I care about you,’ I mouthed, with no sound coming out, ‘but why didn’t you tell me before, that you didn’t even want to go to New York!’ I turned the bike around and we started riding back home, and once again the dog showed me the best streets to take to get there.