I explain my situation to Michelle and in response, she informs me of all the programs New York City offers to pet owners in need. Reduced routine veterinary care, reduced pet boarding fee, free supplies, and she even gives me a few names of trusted dog-sitting services.

“But ultimately it’s your decision,” Michelle concedes.

“What if I helped you?” Richard blurts out.

An unwise ecstasy grips me as I listen to Richard trying to convince me to keep Chevron, advertising all the things he could do to help. The more my mood brightens, the more Michelle’s face darkens. She seems annoyed with us. The Most-friendly-girl-on-Earth starts getting snippy, and unceremoniously ushers us out of the clinic claiming she has to close. Even if it’s still twenty to six.

Just outside, there’s a small park. Seems like a good place to reflect on what to do. We sit down on a bench. Chevron jumps up and sits quietly, resting her snout on my thigh. Her big, scared eyes stare into mine.

Richard looks at her and asks, “How can you think of abandoning her?”

I shake my head, close to tears. “I can’t. But how can I keep her? I could walk to work every day now that the weather is warm. But what about winter? I can’t walk two miles in the freezing rain or snow across a bridge. She’d get too wet and cold; it wouldn’t be good for her.”

“I could drive you home when the weather is too bad to walk.”

I stare into Richard’s brown eyes, not daring to let my hopes rise too high. “You’d pick me up and drive me home every time it rains or snows? This is New York, Richard. Awful weather is pretty much a given in winter. And traffic is just awful.”

“For a cutie like this one”—he pokes Chevron’s nose—“in a heartbeat.”

As though conscious of her fate being discussed, Chevron nuzzles my hand with her moist muzzle and whines. How did I get so attached to her in less than a day? Yesterday, I didn’t know she existed, and now, the thought of living without her is too heartbreaking to even consider. But I have to think of Chevron’s best interest. Be responsible.

“So why don’t you keep her full time?” I ask.

“I’m often away for the weekend, and I go back to England at least twice a year. I wouldn’t be able to manage a dog full time.”

“Mmm…”

“Come on, the solution is right here. I can cover for you when you’re away and drive you home if the weather is awful… or you could borrow my car. Or she could stay at my place sometimes. Or, even better, you could move to Brooklyn.”

Over my dead body. Sorry Chevron, but I can’t leave Manhattan, not even for you. “Yeah, right!”

“Why not?”