My friend Trish called me on Halloween and asked us to go to the Dog Park with her and Nobu, her little dog. Oddly enough we live only 2 blocks from a dog park but have never been there with our 12 year old wiener dog. There is a good reason for that.
The story begins way back when Maggie, in the early bliss of puppyhood, suffered a traumatic event at a dog park. She was tiny, about 4 pounds soaking wet, and was innocently trotting down the sidewalk of Doggy Town. All of a sudden, she was accosted by a huge Rottweiler. It was a friendly Rottweiler, who obviously felt great maternal yearnings toward the tiny puppy. She picked her up in her cavernous mouth and carried her a brief distance before George, Maggie's panicked daddy, whisked Maggie away and wiped off all the slobber with his shirt.
After that, Maggie's time in the dog park was spent in George's arms, way out of the reach of other dogs. It seemed that they all wanted to sniff her, lick her, eat her, etc.
So Maggie had not been to a dog park in over 12 years.
We were getting ready to leave. George was in favor of leaving Maggie home. I disagreed.
"You've got to be kidding!" I exclaimed. "We're going to a dog park without our dog? How pathetic is that?"
George eyed Maggie. She knew some major decision about her future was being discussed. Her tail wagged and her eyes pleaded for...whatever it was.
George scooped her up and off we went. The dog park had a fenced off area for little dogs. We headed in there. Nobu and Trish were there and so were a dozen poodley type dogs, a pug and some mixed breeds.
Several of the dogs, being that it was Halloween, had on costumes. One dog seemed content to wear a bumblebee costume even with the little feelers on his head. He seemed unaware that he appeared to be a dork dog. Even Nobu had a devil costume on.
Dog society is quite interesting. Of course, Maggie remained in her daddy's arms. She watched canine life unfold from the safe height of the park bench we sat on. Nobu sniffed and lifted his leg on every leaf, every piece of grass he came in contact with. I watched intently and am quite certain there was no pee at all coming out, but he was still lifting his leg on everything. He was quit social, going all the way to the far end of the dog park to stick his nose in everyone's business. Trish ran after him, armed with a Publix brand poop bag.
Then there was Stud Muffin. One little poodle, probably about 3 pounds at the most, trotted past us a number of times. He was a well hung specimen, his balls probably 2/3 of his body weight. At least they kept him firmly anchored to the ground. We dubbed him Mr. Balls. My personal opinion was that I would have left his hair a little longer to conceal his genitals. Or maybe a fig leaf would work. But he knew....he was a major stud.
All hell broke loose. 7 fuzzy German Shepherd puppies caroused into the puppy yard. The activity level of the area zoomed to a new high. Unfortunately so did the poop content of the area, the owner not interested in cleaning up after her rollicking brood. They were cute little poop producers though.
We don't plan to wait till next Halloween to go to the dog park again. Maggie enjoyed sitting with the grownups, far above the snorting, sniffling butt-lickers she considered as commoners. George covered her eyes when she observed a gang-banging group of horny canines engaged in a major hump-a-thon. But Maggie had eyes only for Mr. Balls.