Downtown Dog Parks are not just a fenced area where dogs can run around on bark and concrete. They are a place where the dog owners from the area gather and, like a neighborhood bar or corner shop, there is a clique, and the clique has a hierarchy.
There is, of course, the Queen. She is there every day, heads up the volunteers, runs the website. Her acolytes are people who have generally been coming to the park for a long time. They gather in one spot, chatting, smoking, yelling at their dogs if they do anything naughty.
The Queen took a shine to me - perhaps because of my accent - and so I am one of those who stands on the edge of the circle, occasionally contributes to the conversation but generally just listens, quietly. Any hopes of moving inwards towards the center have been crushed by Puppy Dog's behavior, for there is no greater crime than a naughty dog.
And so, to today...
There is another guy in the park throwing balls for his dog with a flinger. I am throwing the ball for Puppy Dog with mine but, apparently, that just isn't good enough. He runs up to the guy and jumps up, taking the ball right out of his flinger. Now, when you are standing innocently, watching your own dog and thinking about where to throw the ball, having 70 pounds of pooch jump up a foot from your nose and attack your flinger can be pretty scary.
So I chastise Puppy Dog, making him sit next to me, quivering, for about two minutes, and keeping him from play. Finally, I tell him he can go, I turn around to find another ball and he runs right up to the guy, around to his front and BAM! steals the ball from his flinger again.
Naturally that means it's time to go home.
Step 1: call Puppy Dog, who runs up to me, but dodges to the left, runs around me and keeps tearing around the park. It takes about four of these drivebys till I can catch him.
Step 2: get him to give up the two balls in his mouth. Grabbing and pulling is a complete waste of time. He goes into some sort of zen state where he makes a sound halfway between a pant and a snore, rhythmically snorting as his jaws clamp down. The only way is to trick him. So I have to get a ball in my flinger, pretend I am going to throw it and then he drops the ones he has.
Step 3: Get the leash attached to his collar so we can leave. Unfortunately, Puppy Dog isn't stupid. I am this far from getting him out of the park. I can see the gate. I can see my car. But I look down, and I don't see my dog. He has slipped out of his collar, grabbed the two balls and he is off.... sprinting around the dog park.
I have long ago caught the attention of the clique, and they are watching with interest. To her credit, the Queen, who is a very nice person, helps me catch and put the collar on Puppy Dog.
Now back to getting him to drop the balls.
I already said he wasn't stupid. He is not going to fall for the same trick again. I wave the ball in my flinger in front of his face, but he hangs onto the balls he has, snorting.
"Coooooome on," I sing. "Wanna chase the ball? You know the rules... drop the one you have. Droooooop the one you have...."
His eyes follow the trajectory of the flinger as I wave it in front of him, hypnotized. His whole body is quivering. But he doesn't let go.
It's a standoff.
Eventually I wave the ball right in front of his nose. It twitches. Once. Twice. He can't resist. He lets the two he has go.
Now I have to get rid of the ball I have, so I fling it away. Now it's a tug of war with Puppy Dog, trying to pull him in one direction - towards the gate - while he tries to pull in the other direction - towards the ball.
I yell my goodbyes to the clique.
And that's when the extent of the humiliation is confirmed.
One of them calls to me as I make it out of the gate...
"Thanks for the entertainment!"
Tuesday, April 7, 2009 at 8:17PM 
