Mrs. Wigglebottom and I are carless again today and so for our big walk we just walked over to 31st street and back by the dog park. This took us by the playwright’s house and so we had a chance to converse with her dog, who was out on the porch.
Her dog: Bark, bark, bark, bark, bark
Me: Hey, Gypsy!
Her dog: What the fuck? Oh, it’s you! I will wag my tail but let you pass silently.
And, obviously, it took us past the dog park. I was feeling slightly sorry for Mrs. Wigglebottom that she will never know the joys of the dog park when there was, all of a sudden, some barking and some hurt yelping and I looked over just in time to see two brown dogs going at it right before every other dog in the park ran over to get in on it.
Now, obviously, I don’t hang out in crowds of twenty or thirty free-roaming dogs, so this was the first time I’d ever seen anything like it, and even from across the street, it scared the shit out of me.
You could just see the domestic part of all of those dogs shut off the second they heard those two dogs go at it and they all simultaneously turned and ran over there, while all of their owners shouted all of these useless, innocuous names after them.
I was scared and I had a fence, a road, and a parked car between us.
It was obvious who won, too, because the winner finally trotted off, tail high, as his owner called after him and he ignored it. The loser, meanwhile, was cowering on its back while its owner tried to drag it away from the other dogs who were still looking to see if there was any more fight left.
If that kind of shit is often going on at dog parks, I have to say, I’m happy to keep Mrs. Wigglebottom away.