I was at the light by West New York Ave when I heard a yelp—high, panicked, not a car alarm. A guy on a beat-up cruiser bike was pedaling with a tiny black puppy trotting behind, leash tangled in the rear spokes. The pup tripped and he kicked at it to “hurry up.” My stomach flipped.
Two drivers pulled over and a woman in scrubs yelled, “Stop!” He swatted her hand away when she tried to give the dog water. Tires idled. The smell of hot brakes hung in the air…