There are no real dogs in Manhattan, I've decided. Once in a while, you'll think you see a r&w, but (of course) it's just a Cavalier. On occasion, you might see a lab. Typically, though, you see small dogs that (poor things) spend their lives in high-rises.
An exception is Joe Augustin's "Feathered Tales". It's about a country boy (upstate New York) made good on Wall Street, and living (it seems) pretty close to Central Park. He picks up a couple of bird dogs and decides to get out of town. He makes his way around the country in search of the "grand slam" (i.e., hunting all of the North American game birds: 20 species-American woodcock, greater prairie chicken, sharptailed grouse, Northern bobwhite quail, blue grouse, chukar partridge, greater sage grouse, gray "Hungarian" partridge, spruce grouse and ruffed grouse.)
It's a cute book, not all that well written, which is part of its charm. It is a book-length love letter from a bird dog man to his bird dogs.
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