The heartbreaking reason my dog thinks “The Booksellers” is the best film of the year.

Last week, my dog Doug and I finally caught up with The Booksellers, the recent documentary about antiquarian and second-hand booksellers which is now streaming, without any sense of irony, on Amazon Prime. Doug usually isn’t very interested in movies, preferring, instead, the movie that plays out from the windows of my second floor bedroom. There, he looks out across the adjoining yards that run behind us, waiting for something to happen. The pace is slow, but when a neighbor starts burning garbage (illegally!), or the illusive German shepherds reappear in their yard, the thrill is undeniable. If you are a dog.

The Booksellers wouldn’t seem to be much competition for the mesmerizing anticipation of what comes from being the canine reincarnation of Mrs. Kravitz, but about twenty minutes into The Booksellers, Doug abandoned his perch and settled in at my side. He leaned into me. I couldn’t recall a time in the past year when he felt so content against me. Then it came to me: it was the voices. All those talking heads. He hadn’t heard so many talking voices in what must seem, to a dog, to be forever.

In our old life, pre-pandemic, pre-moving to New York, there were many voices. In…