2. Manhattan
I was settling into my new life pretty well. I was Catharine Whitman, a law professor at a North Dakota University. I was lonely, though.
I told this to my WPP officer, the one that came to check on me every week. His name was Matt, and was young, and cute. He suggested I get a dog. I immediately balked at the idea. There are pet people, and non-pet people. I was the latter. Over a couple of weeks, though, I warmed up to the idea. Maybe it would be nice to have something to come home to.
I went to the animal shelter, and explained to the woman at the front desk what I wanted. I said I didn't want a yappy poodle, or a slobbering Saint Bernard. She said she had a dog in mind that would be perfect. I followed her through the hallways of kennels filled with barking dogs.
We reached the last kennel. Inside, there was a Golden Retriever who was lying forlornly on the floor of it's cage.
"What's his name" I asked.
"She doesn't have one." said the woman.
I walked into the kennel and knelt down by the dog. She perked her head up, and looked at me with dark brown chocolate eyes. I was hooked. The next day I was sitting on the couch, the dog on the floor by my feet. Ever since I brought her home the day before, she clung to me like glue. She was already trained, and very well-behaved. She needed a name, though. As I sat there on the couch, my eyes fell on the picture of Manhattan at night I had on my wall.
"Manhattan." I say wistfully, and the dog immediately perks her head up.
"That's what I'll call you, then. Manhattan."