I watched my part-Lab, part-mutt, Django, and my part-poodle, part-mutt, Bebe, run through the park, circling some bushes and zigzagging between a couple of benches, startling the young couple who had been sitting there immersed in each other. Owing to the season, early February, it could almost be considered a rite of the false-spring we’d been experiencing in the Big Apple. As I kept an eye on the frisky dogs, I was feeling a bit of the old false-spring fever myself, and longed to wrap up this year’s filming and head back to my home in France. But first, I had another commitment.
I whistled and their...