His paternal grandmother had been among the waves of sheep, rabbits, goats, and other alpacas who had once flocked to this neighborhood to sell the wool off their backs. Their bodies fed the omnivorous clattering looms of the garment industry. His grandfather used to work as the night guard at a place on the corner of Twenty-Sixth. The building had housed small wool-spinning businesses and wholesalers for seashells. It had recently been turned into a hotel. Smokers hovered around office-building entryways.

He continued downtown. It was one of the farmers’ market days in Union Square. There were the usual crowds loading their string bags with mushrooms and chard and apple cider. The park trees rustled their dry leaves over Hairy Krishnas who shook little bells as they sang.

Alfonzo turned. He didn’t want to follow Broadway any farther. He paused at a news kiosk to buy water. The day’s headlines lay in front of the style magazines.

PLASTIC: TOO GOOD TO TOSS?

MAYOR DISBANDS AFFORDABLE HOUSING PLANNING GROUP

STUDY CLAIMS TRANSATLANTIC COMMUNICATION CABLES CAUSE HURRICANES

He zagged left into the East Village. A group of raccoons and goats ambled along chatting, and he slowed behind them at a polite distance. They were dressed in anarchist black. New School or Cooper Union, Alfonzo guessed. One looked familiar. Alfonzo might have seen him around Gowanus, or maybe at some lefty protest.

The creatures were engaged in an animated conversation.

“So,” one of the raccoons said, “this little shih tzu, right—an absolute louse—comes up to us out of the blue and points to Muffin and asks, ‘What is she even, an otter freak? A seal or something?’”

The goats dropped their mouths open at the raccoon’s story.

“He asked what?”

“Yes, and then his weasel friend chimed in and was like, ‘Maybe a dog knocked up a seal. I didn’t know their kind were allowed around here.’ And then he growled, get this, ‘I’d like to see her wet.’”

They all took a long pause to register the horror.

“They were acting like we couldn’t hear them,” the raccoon continued, gesticulating with his paws. “Meanwhile, Muffin is mortified.”

“Disgusting.”

“I wanted to tear his nose open.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I am an avowed pacifist. Even with tick-faces.”

They all laughed.

“So, what did you do?”

“I tapped him on the side and was like, ‘You forget that we all came from the sea. Your ignorance will not confine the rest of us.’”

“Baby, you were too nice.”

“So enlightened.”

“I would have shredded him.”

“We cannot sink to their level.”

“True.”