Ever since I moved into my building four months ago, I have lived in fear of my hostile doorman. No matter what I dosmile, thank him, salute, try to strike up a conversationthe most I can hope for from him is a resentful grunt. I have spent countless hours trying to figure out how to make him like me, all to no avail.
This morning my dog A. won his heart.
As A. and I left the building, A. straining at her leash because she knew there were too many things to sniff and too little time, the doorman looked down at her and smiled. He then barked at her, and she barked back. They repeated this exchange a few times and then A. ran off, dragging me after her, in search of new experiences.
Upon our return to the building, the hostile doorman actually struck up a conversation with me about how many dogs lived on the second floor. It turns out that A. is the only one. I suggested that I could get five or six more dogs. The hostile doorman asked why. I said, “to keep her company.” For some reason the hostile doorman thought this was the funniest thing anyone had ever said and laughed a big, unhostile guffaw.
I am in shock. I dare not hope that this is the beginning of a thaw.
But A. will be eating steak tonight.