Ohh the Dog Park

As anyone campaigning for dog-mom of the year would do, I take my baby Fred to the park on the regular.  We go several times a week, despite the fact that Fred is slowly destroying my car.  Even though my seats are always caked in mud, the windows full of slobber, and there are nail scratches on my dash....it is still better than changing diapers and paying for college so dog babies for the win!

I grew up with dogs but never had one while living on my own until now.  Because my parents have a large backyard and a great neighborhood for walks, I had never been to a dog park before getting Fred.  I have learned many things by becoming a dog park regular.  The most important is the levels of dog obsession.

I am obsessed with my dog I will not lie.  He does not however rule my life, this is not common with the folks I meet at the dog park though, they are freaky into their pets.   

These dog park junkies do not know your name, but they can tell you your dog's nickname, age, weight, height, and personality.  I am shocked when I will overhear a dog parker telling someone else all about my dog...

These people think it is perfectly acceptable to let their muddy ass dog jump all over you and hump your dog.  No my friend, these things are not ok. 

The only human interaction some of these weirdos get on the weekends is the dog park, and they form cliques. I am not a part of the dog park elite, I try to avoid some of the stranger regulars.  I know for a fact most of these crazies don't like me (they love Fred though) it is probably because I am not a 40 year old virgin and I know boobs don't feel like bags of sand. 

One of the real winners asked me for my number once so our dogs could "play".  This gentleman was in his mid-fortys sporting a Grumpy hat.  Grumpy as in the dwarf; I declined.  The next week he invited me to his dog's birthday party.  I asked if there would be booze to which he replied, "no it's a party for the dog!"  I obviously did not attend.

(Fred gets parched after a long day at the park)

Another wack-a-doo at the park brings his three dogs (none of which play, they just sit by his feet) every single Saturday and stays about 5 hours.  This man wants nothing more than to argue politics at the park.  I am typically hungover on my Saturday morning visits and his shouting and close minded ideas do not sit well with me, I haven't gotten into a fight yet but know it's only a matter of time.  Your dogs don't play: GO HOME!

Perhaps the craziest of the lot is a homeless woman who frequents the park.  She lives in her 1980s Volkswagen golf, smokes a pack a day, and owns 3 black labs.  The labs live in the VW with her.  During my most recent encounter with her she gave me financial advice and told me I should buy a house not rent an apartment when she over heard me talking to someone about the complex I live in.