Taking a walk through the neighborhood today after breakfast at Red Bicycle, I was greeted on one block of Houghton St. by a trio of dachshunds, two of them running toward me while a third held court on a lawn in the middle of the block.

With all the barking and trotting alongside and earnest looks, they seemed to be torn between an instinct to protect their home turf and some larger gut loyalty to anything human that might acknowledge and validate their eager presences. I felt like a diplomat, ferried along by an involuntary but respectful armed escort from one checkpoint to another.