Sunday, November 3, 2013

Melissa Goes to the Dog Park

Dog owners have been talking about these things called "dog parks" and I must admit, I have not been curious to visit one.  I envisioned mud, dirt, piles of doggie droppings everywhere, sniffing, drooling, barking, growling, and complete chaos.  Well, yesterday I ventured into a dog park for the first time and it was pretty much exactly what I imagined.   

First things first, I don't have a dog.  My friends do, so I wasn't just some strange creeper with a camera that showed up at the dog park on a random Saturday afternoon.  Although, it is probably much more acceptable to be dog-less at a dog park than child-less at a playground.  People call the cops on that sort of thing.  

These were the dogs I tagged along with:
(She is a girl, by the way)

I decided from the moment I walked in through the gate, God knew what he was doing when he decided not to make me a dog.  Obviously, if I had been born a dog I would certainly not be a Great Dane or a Rottweiler.  I would be a little Yorkie or Chihuahua with a bow on my head and would go home and pee on the carpet to punish my dumb owner for taking me to a ridiculous dog park.  I would be the type of dog that would enter a situation like this and cry by the gate and growl at any of the other mutts that came near me:    

The canine version of airport security?
"Okay fellas, we got a new arrival.  You know what you need to do.  Assume the position."

When I managed to stop thinking about what life would be like as a dog, I was able to really soak in the experience.  You have to be ready for anything.  At any given moment, a pack of fur balls can come charging and in a matter of seconds you can become a human bowling pin.

Or, something like this could just plop itself down next to you and want you to give it attention.  And, with eyes like that, you best be ready to figure out what it wants - AND FAST!

See.  Even the other dogs know who their superior is.  

The entire dog park experience was remarkably similar to the time I spent doing recess duty at an elementary school.  It was easy to spot the bullies, the attention-deprived, and the socially awkward.  The socially awkward of this group was without a doubt... Wookie.  I don't even think Wookie knows whether he is a dog or a donkey.  If I had my way, Wookie would forever wear a pink tutu and I'd change his name to Grace.  There would be nothing cooler than seeing that dog in a tutu spinning circles to eat his tail and sliding into walls, fences, and doors.

Poor Wookie.  The socially awkward one doesn't even care that he gets "shamed" every ten minutes for pouncing other dogs.  The sickest part is that <<gulp>> the dog is starting to grow on me.

Walk of Shame. 

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