Dogs, dogs, dogs.

I'm doing a favor for friends in Ft Lauderdale.  Her mother suddenly became imminently terminally ill, there's a possible reconciliation available, and they had to scramble to get to Massachusetts ASAP.  I'm keeping their dogs for a week and a half.  These are big dogs.  And, as my friends reminded me, I'm not a dog person.  I agreed that was true, but I am a friend person.  So I offered, they accepted, and I have dogs for a while.

I am reminded every day, all day, why I'm not a dog person.  Either they take a lot of time, or I feel like I'm neglecting them, or both.  And since I don't want them roaming through my house, they're consigned to the garage, pretty much all the time.  Except when I walk them, which is way more time in the day than I want to spend fussing with dogs.  And when I'm not walking them, or not home, I worry if they're OK, and not despoiling my garage.  It beats worrying that they're either despoiling or chomping on something in the house, though.

Happily, my daughter and her boyfriend, who are dog-lovers, are visiting.  Since I can't persuade them to move here (from Boston), an occasional visit is all I can have.  Yesterday, we met my brother and his dog at a dog park.  It was a sad day for my brother's dog.  The dog's bad seed, instigator, destructive, terrorizing sister had just been returned to the pound that same morning, and my brother's remaining dog was a bit lost without his sister, who was clearly the leader of that small pack.  The lone brother needed some consoling, and some socializing with dogs which were not the spawn of the devil.  I never knew where any dog parks were, but it turns out there's one (actually two; one for smaller dogs, and one for larger dogs) at the southeast end of the Haulover complex, just over the bridge from Bal Harbour.  It costs $2 to park for as long as you like.  My brother said it was $2, the sign at the parking area says $6, and the attendant agreed with my brother.

The dogs appeared to have had a wonderful time at the dog park.  I think it was some sort of big adventure for them.  Even my brother's dog seemed somewhat and transiently interested in the other dogs.  I have a sense that my friends don't take their dogs to dog parks.  This suspicion was confirmed when I finally reached the husband today, as he never called back yesterday to tell me if it was OK to take the dogs to the park.  He said he would have advised against taking "Mrs Peel" to the park, since she might be too aggressive.  (Wrong.  She had a great time.  And so did her partner, "Voltaire."  You can see what kinds of friends I have.)

There's a very interesting difference between walking dogs in the neighborhood and taking them to a dog park.  The obvious thing is that in the neighborhood, the dogs are leashed, which they seem very much not to appreciate.  They're not interested in me.  They're interested in other dogs, cats, squirrels, and the subtle aromas of the excrement of other dogs.  So since they're tethered, they're somewhat frustrated.  In the dog park, they're completely free to be dogs, which I must say is very pleasing to me.  It certainly seems so to them.  But the more interesting thing is this: in the street, dogs are wary of each other.  They growl, bark, and charge at each other.  It seems a notable proportion of my time is spent preventing dog fights, though my friends' dogs are very friendly, to people and to other dogs.  At the dog park, there is a very different democracy, or hierarchy, that is settled subtly and with surprisingly little disturbance.  The dogs approach each other for the sniffing ritual, of course.  There's an instant of presenting themselves to each other, in a way that looks ephemerally as if it could be forceful.  But what looks like a fight waiting to happen in the street doesn't look at all like that in a park.  You wonder if what happens on the street is either the dog protecting its owner, or displacing onto something else, like another dog, its resentment and discomfort at being so frequently choked for wanting a little socialization, fun, and satisfaction of curiosity.  This, by the way, is one of the reasons I'm not a dog person.  I don't want to dominate a dog.

We had considered a dog park in Biscayne Park.  It was John Ise's project about 5-7 years ago when he lived here, and the Foundation considered it about a year or two ago.  During that consideration, or negotiation, we found there was a certain amount of support for a dog park, and quite a few people who said they would delightedly take their dogs to one.  The factor that killed the whole deal, though, was that no one actually wanted a dog park next to them.  NIMBY.  Whether that was an adjacent vacant lot, of which there were two, one of the "pocket parks," like the ones on either side of the 6th Avenue bridge, "Griffing Park," where the sculpture is, or one of the large medians.

So we remain bereft of a dog park.  I never thought much about it one way or the other before, since it didn't and doesn't apply to me, but having experienced it, I really think it's a nice idea.  It seems good for the dogs, and it's kind of nice for the people, too.  At the Haulover park, we sit at park benches together working out the same social decencies the dogs do.