“Who do you have in there?” an older woman asked, smiling from her seat.

  “Oh, no one,” Viv said. She was sitting next to this woman. The crate was next to her.

  “It’s a dog in there?” She had her own dog in a purse, a small long-haired breed that was sniffing at the air like there was a dog food convention.

  “He’s, uh, not good on subways,” Viv said.

  The purse dog barked once.

  Then barked again.

  Then began barking incessantly. Her little eyes were bulging out of her face,

  “She must smell my dog,” Viv said. You had to have a good nose to smell anything over the blanket.

  The dog tried to wriggle his way out of the purse. “I am sorry,” the woman said, “Grace never acts like this. Do you Gracie? Do you?”

  “There’s chicken in here,” Viv said. “Maybe she smells that.”

  A dopey-looking guy with a wool cap and earbuds got up from his seat and began lifting the blanket. “What you got?”

  Viv took the blanket out of his hand before he could lift it that far. “Excuse me?”

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  He walked back to his seat. “Whatever.”

  Someone else said “what sort of breed is he?” Great, now this was show and tell.

  “Uh, he’s a mutt. I don’t know what he is, exactly.” Was that ever true.

  “Is he a service animal?” the woman with the dog asked. “Because if he is, you don’t need to keep him in the crate. Gracie’s a service animal, and she rides the subway every day.”

  A young guy in a leather jacket said “Yo, service animals are-“ and then said a word that wasn’t polite at all.

  “Excuse me, young man,” the woman said. “Gracie helps with my anxiety.”

  Wool Cap stood back up. “Come on, I just wanna see what he looks like.”

  Viv waved him off. “No. He is not a good traveler.”

  Gracie barked some more. “Oh, maybe he does smell your chicken.”

  “Yo, your dog, like, stinks,” a brand new person said.

  “Guys, my dog’s not a good traveler. He doesn’t like loud noises. That’s why the blanket’s on him,” Viv said. “So if everyone could just … settle down?”

  The car actually quieted down.

  For five seconds.

  “It’s a legitimate thing,” a new woman said. “Service animals.”

  “Yo, you just want to have your dog on the subway,” Leather Jacket said, loudly. “I do that, my dog eats your dog for lunch.”

  “No one is eating Gracie!” the older woman shouted. Grace started barking again.

  “Calm down, grandma!” Leather Jacket yelled over the barking. “Bucephelos ain’t here!”

  “That’s an awesome dog name!” Wool Cap yelled.

  “Yo yo! Alexander the Great’s horse! Guy was the OG OG!”

  “YOU ARE MAKING GRACIE NERVOUS!”

  From under the blanket came a high-pitched growl. The whine of a dentist’s drill if it got bit by a werewolf. The whole car went mute. Everyone took a further step back from the crate. Wool Cap took out his phone and started recording.

  Viv looked straight ahead, trying not to look at Wool Cap’s phone, or any other camera that might be on her. While she was trying to force a casual smile, she tried to match an animal to the growl. She wasn’t any good at it with birds, much less reptiles that were 99% mute. Still no idea what was under here.

  The sound of the subway doors opening broke the silence.

  “That’s my stop!” Viv said, and pushed the crate off quick as she could. Everyone else stayed on.

  It wasn’t her stop. She had to wait for the following D train to take it one more stop to Rockefeller Center. People were quiet on that one.

  Then time to crash a morning show.