Down At The Dog Park

Our current home owners were very clear where they stood on the subject of walking a 66 kilo Great Pyrenees with a feline attitude towards authority. "Don't!" they said. "He only goes to the dog park. Drive him there. In our car. Here's the keys."

The dog park is a new experience for me.  All prior pets were exercised in the conventional manner, requiring me to put in as much effort as them and possibly double given I have half as many legs. Added to that most of our prior pets, while nice to me, had little-dog attitudes which could have been problematic in the pack hierarchy of the dog park.

I've discovered a whole new world down at the dog park: a social circle based on watching dogs be dogs and a human pecking order based on who's been coming the longest, who spends the most time at the dog park, and a no doubt a whole heap of nuances of which I am, and intend to remain, blissfully ignorant.

Surveying the park, protecting against pigeon incursions.

 

Let me introduce you to some of the regulars:

There's a fat little pug with a penchant for eating tennis balls at the park and (reportedly) vomiting them up when he gets home. He's always at the park because his owner lives and works alone and the dog park is, I suspect, a major social event for both of them. When he's not fighting with the pug over possession of the latest mangled tennis ball, the owner hangs out and shoots the breeze with whoever comes along.  He even has a WhatsApp group so he can make sure he'll have someone to talk to down at the park, but being merely a temporary dog park denizen, I haven't made it to WhatsApp group level.

There's two large fluffy dogs with owners well lubricated by whatever they drink from the bottles that clank in their roll-along bag. Our dog doesn't like them: he turns into a savage beast at the sight of them, and dog fights ensue. The well lubricated owners start yelling and swearing. The dog park regulars start yelling and swearing back in defense of our dog, who I feel does not deserve defense given he has indulged in biting and snarling. I take him home in disgrace, leaving the two camps to yell at each other a bit more, and in future visits I make sure to suss out the park before we enter. If the black fluffies and the roll-along bottle bag is there, my dog and I go home and he sulks because he feels deprived both of his outing and his opportunity to exercise righteous doggie wrath.

Waiting for the crowds.

 

A large part-time cast supports the regulars at the dog park. There's a wriggling, eager to please peleton of labradors and golden retrievers; a flotilla of little fluffy dogs who trip over themselves to find anyone who will play with them;  and ping-pongs of ball-obsessed kelpies and border collies whose owners, reduced to mere ball-throwing machines by their pets, don't have time to do hang out with humans. An elderly Asian man walks briskly around the pathways, closely followed by his waddling ball of fluff. "I have to walk," he says. "If I don't walk she doesn't walk and the vet already roused on me because she's too fat." And then he gives her a treat.

Our dog, guardian to his bones, patrols the perimeter to ensure that any pigeon invasion is repelled. Puppies attempt to play with him but he doesn't quite get the concept. He watches the ball chasers with befuddled bewilderment: if he was a cartoon dog a giant question mark would float above his head.  Eventually he gets bored and wanders off to the exit, not even bothering to check if I'm behind him. Dutiful dog servant that I am, I cease my conversations and exit as summoned.  We drive home to our garden full of flowers, where dinner awaits him.

For gratuitous viewing pleasure.

Back at the dog park, the social shenanigans of dogs and humans continues through the day and, under lights, into the night. Every time I drive past, there's someone there.  If it's empty when Dog and I turn up, you can be sure that within 10 minutes a pack will be scratching, sniffing, and peeing throughout the park.

With that in mind, here are my three key tips to surviving your time at the dog park:

1)    Opinions are aired freely at the dog park.  Thankfully dogs provide a good excuse to summarily leave a conversation.

2)    Not everyone picks up after their dog.  Be careful where you tread.

3)    Anything below waist height will carry a generous patina of dog pee.  Don't sit down.

This is in our garden.  Dog parks do not have roses.