I'm a dog person --- you might say a rabid dog person. Since I do not own a dog at the moment, I flirt with them shamelessly on the street (sometimes, but not always, they flirt back). It's hard to tell which are more endearing: the humans or the canines, in Cathleen Schine's new novel, THE NEW YORKERS (the title surely refers to both species). While lighthearted in tone and small of scale (it focuses on one city block and its inhabitants, with a swathe of Central Park thrown in), this book is neither shallow nor jokey. It is a comedy of manners, beautifully observed, with a huge and generous soul.