There are dogs at the dog park. Of course there are, you are thinking ...it's a dog park. I'm visiting my friend in Phoenix and her young dog needs to run and play so we head for the dog park. It sounds romantic like in the movies and I picture an idyllic setting with rolling hills and a view of a lake but I don't picture dogs. There are dogs at the dog park?
The dog park is a new dimension for me. It is full of, yes, dogs but also dog people. People who are automatically connected ...they share an intimacy of long time friends as they greet each other's dogs and ask dog questions.
"She's a lab pit bill mix and she's 8 months old. How old is he?"
"Did you get her at the shelter? Which one? Do you use Advantix?"
"I go to Cosmo on the weekends ...there are more dogs there on the weekends."
One woman holds a tiny dog that shakes and jumps into the air like a bounced ball as she watches her other dog, a Marmaduke look alike but he's black not crayon red. If the owner looks like their dog, which one is she? Both. She is petite but has a tatoo on her lower abdomen ...I don't think she's wearing underwear.
I sit on a bench and steal myself from dog encounters and they run around me, under the bench, and occasionally stop to say hello. I am not a dog person. There are dogs at the dog park. But, I almost want a dog so I can talk to these people. The warmth and sharing feel as good as the Arizona sunshine. No formality, no tneed to get to know each other, no worries about how they look or if their job is good enough. They are immediately connected. They are dog people.
But, aren't we all people people? I wonder why we aren't immediately connected at any park, on the airport tram, in the gas station at the Big Gulp area or waiting in line for one thing or another. Do we need a dog or a reason to be connected?
One of the dogs runs past and throws slime onto my exposed toes. Yuck. I want to reach out to the dogs and to the people. Tomorrow I will try again. Dogs at the dog park. Dog people. People people.
