I’ve been meaning to visit other dog parks in our city, in order to write a snotty comparative review about why our park is better than any other park. Life, of course, interferes with all my intentions. Right now we’re out of town visiting family. The Spouse’s brother owns a 14-year-old Tibetan mastiff; it’s a rare breed, but one of the oldest. Even though it was -8 with the windchill, we all went to see where Zach goes to play.
It’s a very nice park, about 3/4 the size of ours. No walking path, no bus shelter, but those really are elements unique to ours. The chain-link fence separates it from an adjacent playground; our park is stand-alone. The wind blew pretty hard. The Youngest froze. That’s familiar territory.
Of course all that matters is the dogs. We walked in with Daisy, an American bulldog with a disposition like sugar. A chocolate lab puppy, maybe five months old, kept trying to lick Daisy’s face. Something black with very short legs and a curly tail raced around and around. And there was a large brown and tan dog that played and wrestled with anyone game to play.
In other words, a typical friendly dog park. Daisy wanted lots of affection, and I was happy to oblige. My kids kept patting the puppy. Zach stayed aloof as much as possible, as is typical of his breed. The Brother-in-Law and Zach stayed for over an hour, but we left after 20 minutes. We had errands to run, and our noses were falling off. Mind you, it wasn’t the end of dogs for the day; later in the day, we got to play with a sharpei puppy at a pet supply store. Now everyone misses Our Best Friend, and can’t wait to see him tomorrow.