Dog Park Politics

by Sherie Pollack

There are two reasons why I bought a house: first, I wanted to get rid of that pesky nest egg (who wants a secure pile of ever-growing money lying around); and secondly, I wanted a dog.

I got me an eleven-month-old Bernese Mountain Dog/Shepherd/Cow mix named Paulie who eats on command.

I got Paulie a 2-bedroom, 1-bathroom ranch-style house with a nice yard, a mid-size SUV and really good oatmeal shampoo.

Paulie and I go to the local dog park every morning where we do our best to abide by the following dog park rules:

No Barking Before 9 a.m.

I'm too sleepy to bark but it's tough for Paulie to stifle; for he feels the need to tell his furry friends who's winning the "slobber on each other's head" game. So, all the dog owners end up disturbing the neighbors anyway, yelling, " Quiet Daisy!" and "NO Barking Bozo!" Dumb rule.

No Digging Outside of the Doggie Sandbox

Dogs are going to dig where it smells best. At this park there's a big sandbox for the dogs to dig in but everybody knows the stink in the sandbox ain't near as good as the stench under the people bench.

It's hard to get your dog to not do what their ancestors did. Paulie chooses to dig outside the sandbox despite the mean dog park organizer lady yelling at us. Paulie and I let her finish yelling while we dutifully fill the hole back up and I hand her a cookie—the lady, not Paulie, he's had his already—and the lady walks away (good girl).

All that money for obedience classes was not for naught.

No Dog Under Four Months Allowed

This rule is for the dogs' own good because puppies' immune systems cannot handle adult dog cooties.

So when some goofy guy brings in a cute puppy to attract chicks, the poor shnook only gets a hoard of chastising female banshees lecturing him on the evils of kennel cough, intestinal parasites and conjunctive eye disease. Jeez, all he wanted was to get laid. By the way, contrary to popular belief, I've yet to hear of any human romance sparked in a dog park setting. There are plenty of perfectly nice odd dog walkers of unidentifiable sexual orientations though. Dog parks are about dog fun—and human socialization is relegated to swapping diarrhea tips and the latest flea remedies.

And a good time is had by all.

Owners Must Pick Up Their Dog's Doo

It's only fair. Do the right thing.

And even though my dog sees me scoop up his poo all the time he continues to marvel at my behavior.

But because of the unconditional love canines give their owners, Paulie does not judge my transplanting his poo from his carefully selected spot to an impractical container that does nothing to make a territorial statement.

On the contrary, he patiently guards me from anyone who might disturb my odd persistent mission to rearrange his poo locales.

And I do not judge his digging, his delight in tennis balls or expression of concern when I sneeze.

Dog is God spelled backwards.

The "expert" that wrote a Dog Behavior book—the one that depicts dogs as devoid of compassion and co-existing with humans only for food and lodging—is very much like that angry guy on the radio whose name rhymes with Tom Lycas, who likes to hate women. Lycas obviously pissed a girl off in his youth and never got over her rejection. The dog "expert" probably got himself bit by some ticked-off pooch and subsequently thinks dogs only want him for his money.

Copyright © Sherie Pollack 2004