Woof

My husband and I have a surefire prescription for joy. Spend a half hour or so watching the fun at a dog park. Not having a dog is no impediment to viewing the jubilation.

The best time to go is around 5:30 P.M. The dogs have been cooped up all day waiting for their owners to return. When the leash comes out, these pups are ready. They arrive at the park in a steady stream … the small and the tall, floppy eared and pointy eared, all quivering with excitement with tails wagging madly.

The minute the leashes are unsnapped, they are off, running madly in huge circles and greeting all their canine friends. Back ends are sniffed. Pecking orders are established. The play field becomes a happy jumble of racing, cavorting, leaping, fetching dogs.

I imagine what must be going on in their doggy brains:

i’m so happy i’m so happy oh boy oh boy oh boy this is so much fun i want to stay forever throw the ball throw the ball i can get it watch me go i’m a happy dog here’s the ball throw it again what are you waiting for throw the ball throw the ball i can get it here i go oh boy oh boy oh boy i’m on it i’m on it let’s stay here forever!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I once spent a happy evening in a park in Barcelona playing catch with a dog. We were sitting on a park bench smiling at a dog’s obvious joy at retrieving its tennis ball over and over.  Then the dog’s owner, a charming lady, smiled at me and offered me the ball. I don’t speak Catalan and she did not speak English, but her meaning was clear: please join in the fun. And I did, until the tennis ball was so soggy it was dripping.

Much to the displeasure of the Tooley Cats, dog visitors are always welcome at our house. We have the biggest dog park of all. It’s called the beach.

..... Happy Dogs ..... Artist Unknown

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