((Because I'm not nearly mean enough to my pups...))
Errol couldn't recall ever being so content. He loved his job, he loved his books, he was quite happy in his small apartment, and he enjoyed the company of those he met in the City. There had been a blotch on that happiness, the matter of a mugger in an alley, but only the mugger had been hurt and there had been no incidents since. After that encounter, he had begun to expand the range of his walks from a matter of blocks to a matter of miles, attempting to familiarize himself with the City.
He stopped here, a fair distance from his apartment and bookstore and the cafe that had become a regular haunt. There were a number of pigeons cooing around the doorway to a building, and he watched them, considering. He had half of a begniet in his pocket left over from breakfast, and he rather liked the little birds despite assurances that they were nuisances to people with cars. "Here, little fellows," he said, crumbling a piece of the pastry and tossing the crumbs at them.