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explosion.jpgThe scene: Monday morning, 8:30 a.m., Central Park. BennyBix Ochman Labradoodlepuppy is off-leash and instead of playing, he is sitting at full attention in one spot and staring up at the sky, into the distance, into the sky again. He doesn’t respond to voice, food, toys, or his dog buddies.
Then the sirens start: police, fire, ambulance. I know the sounds so well, like anyone in New York City. And the sound went on for way too long to be just a routine emergency. The sirens were wailing for half an hour. I could smell smoke that turned out to be almost two miles away. Nobody but me, the lone 911 survivor in the group, seemed the least bit bothered, except my puppy.
When it was time to leave the park, Benny wouldn’t leave. His tail was between his legs and he was totally spooked, pulling back in a clear panic. I practically had to carry him out of the park. Another dog, and then another, had the same reaction. What was spooking them?
It was this. The dogs must have felt the explosion.