The dog in the backpack is doing pretty well, all things considered. He doesn't seem to mind the crowded subway car, or the slightly awkward way in which he has to hold his paws because of the angle of the backpack, and his soft brown eyes gaze on we commuters without judgement or alarm, even as the patch on the backpack that holds him ("PLEASE ASK TO PET') hints at issues with people in the past.
When I pull my yerba mate tea out of my bag and pop off the lid of my cup, he lifts his head and begins to strain his head this way and that in an attempt to look over his shoulder to see where this unusual smell might be coming from. "It's possible he's never smelled this before," I tell his owner, and she agrees.
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