At the corner of Wall and Water, I waited. He rolled up in a sorry looking wheelchair, a thin (but well kempt) mutt in orange fur at his side. Maneuvering past the busy tourists, he greeted Steve, who sat in the corner magazine stand.

Producing a Poland Spring from the cooler, with a blessing wave from Steve, he cracked open the plastic bottle, licking his lips.

Extending an arm, he tilted the bottle away from his mouth, the tongue of his pooch ready and waiting, slobbering happily over the small opening.

I was smiling as people actually stopped on the busy sidewalk to watch this, a man and his dog, sharing quality time. New York intruded upon my revelry as a man shook his head and commented to his female companion, both in faux Armani, "That must cost one-twenty-five or one-fifty a bottle."

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