So yesterday my roommate, Chaz, and I took Stu (our house dog) to the dog park. Little did I know I would be doing more people watching than keeping an eye on the pup...
Just to give you an idea of what the Lincoln Dog Park is like, it is a few acres of open, fenced-in grass. That's it. Inside the fence are people and their dogs. No dog looks the same, and neither do the people. While the dogs are all there for basically the same reasons, their owners aren't exactly sure why they've ended up there or what they're supposed to be doing doing. They just know they love their dogs and probably all dogs for that matter.
So Chaz and I make our way through a series of gates, Stu digging in deep to escape his leash. Once he's let off the leash, it's a mad dash for the closest piece of tail (literally) he can find. This is where things get a bit screwy, or maybe not. For the next thirty minutes or so, Stu engages in a constant rampage with the other dogs. He doesn't discriminate either. Our suave (by this I should really say overly aggressive) dog was getting digits from terriers to greyhounds (Stu is rightfully a "mut" who lives in a house of nine people...all "muts"). So from here on out, it's a series of tackling, sniffing, licking, and excreting...you know, dog stuff...the simple things a dog needs for carving enjoyment out of life.
So what about us humans? Where is our dose of Monday afternoon entertainment?
The people at the park...ohh the people. I was aware Wisconsin had a generous amount of eccentrics calling the land of dairy home, but I guess I always considered MKE an exception...until yesterday. As soon as we showed up, I shot Chaz a glance that wondered, "Who are these people and what do they do with their lives?" Okay, a little harsh, but I really just wanted to know if these folks were the dog version of a cat-lady or were just trying to escape the spouse and kids for a thirty minute block out of their day with ole' Sparky. Whatever the reason, it seemed like once you made your way through the final gate into the dog park, you became a dog enthusiast. Like programmed robots, the watchers engage in a continuum of keeping an eye on Sparky, inquiring about other dogs, spitting out dog facts, and meandering aimlessly until it's time to wrangle their pet and pack it in for supper. Oh and forget trying to get your dog to "stop" or "come" or "fetch" because once the your canine is within the fencing, all bets are off for mannerisms. This is dog-world and there's no real estate left for humans. Stu's got his dog pals at the park and homosapien homies at home.
Whatever, Stu. I'll just people-watch. The guy in overalls and a trucker hat snatches his fat stoagie, which is hiding among the beard engulfing the hole in his face. Entertainment at last. His is the gray Labradoodle going at it with what looks like an undersized German Shepherd. Like most of the people there, this man can't decide whether to break up the tussle or let the dogs keep at it. You can see it on their face, and the hesitant, half-step forward is always a dead give-away. The smaller dog owners are often stuck in this kind of position, fearing for their Basset Hound or Pomerani's life. "OK Stanleyy I think it's time to go now," yells one woman in a very thick Wisconsin accent as her terrier clings to a tree, its only life line amidst a huddle of larger dogs waiting to toss the pup in the air like a rag doll. So survival of the fittest. What's new. Besides, did the lady not see the sign for the separate "Small Dog Area" at the front of the entrance? Maybe it was one too many diet pills this morning or the blood clogging in her legs due to unbearably tight jogging pants. You make the call.
In any event, I'm kind of looking forward to a second visit to Lincoln. Unless I know that one guy will be there...you know, the guy who obnoxiously instructs his mut to "TAKE IT DOWN A NOTCH, JOHN JAMES" every two minutes. Yeah, he named it John James. I don't know. Do we take our dogs to these places for their entertainment or ours? Probably both. I even brought a book. Didn't open it (didn't need to) but brought it.
It's better than TV folks. So next time you're tempted to turn on some god-awful tube (see Jersey Shore and all reality TV for that matter), grab a dog, any dog, and head to the park where dogs are watched by people, people are watching people, and dogs are doing dog things.
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