Doggie Park Sociologist

During my recent stint as a dogsitter, I made the following observations in the doggie park:



a) When dogs of all sizes, colors, temperaments, and levels of drool production congregate -- often 15+ at doggie park rush hour -- I can't stop laughing at who's humping whom, who's actually running after the slobbery tennis ball (human or animal), how it is possible that the pitbull slobbers all over the prissiest puggle-owner's coat, ... Dogs are just funny together.

And b) the social interactions between dog owners, some -- like me -- awkwardly standing by the sidelines laughing at the four-leggeds, others engaging in small talk that inevitably starts with "Oh, how old is your dog?" -- is ground zero for rich empirical study. There's the constant sizing up of each other's dog training skills -- how many minus points do i get when my little shitsu leaves a pawmark on the labradoodle's lady-owner's freshly washes jeans because he's so excited to see her? And the gauging of the precise moment of when it is obligatory to start a conversation with another dog-owner, once the dogs have been smelling each other's bits and butts for a while. Do you make eye contact with the human or just stare at their dog while you're starting this conversation? Do you tell the owners of large dogs that keeping them in the city is cruelty to animals, or do you just let it slide?

I guess, I opt to simply look around at the budding trees, like these magnolias that just popped:



Plants are so much less complicated.