Pat Taub
GUEST POST by BARBARA BENGELS
I’m a dog run junkie. There’s hardly a day that goes by when my husband and I are not at a local dog run with my daughter’s 2 ½ year old pup who lives with us. I’d like to say that this is all to benefit our Penelope—but I’d be lying.
Penny, the author’s beloved family dog
Yes, Penny looks forward to these excursions every day—to run more freely than our modest backyard allows, to catch balls thrown much further than we can throw at home, to (occasionally) socialize and run with other dogs, to sniff out treats other dog owners have brought (while ours strategically remain in the car to entice her to leave), and especially in the summer to frisk in the pink plastic pool some kind person (or the park itself?) has donated. We love to watch her submerge her snout, splash, dig, and use the pool as “home base” to escape dogs who are too prissy to even get their paws wet—and then to use her rudder-like tail to drench us all.
Louie, the author’s grandson, with Penny
The truth, however, is we go for our own pleasure. I often wonder what the last year and a half would have been like if we didn’t have the impetus to go out every day with our pup.
Yes, we could have just let her out in our backyard but then we would have continued to be Pandemic Prisoners. At the park we get to play with other people’s dogs. We talk to their dogs and eventually lift up our eyes to engage with their owners.
Yes, our own social life revolved around the dog park as much as our dog’s did (and probably even more so.) We would always find out the ages of the other dogs, and sometimes ask about their breeds. We’d chat with owners of Great Danes and whippets, yes, even with sweet pit bulls and Heinz-variety pups.
Among the dogs at the author’s dog park
What is particularly amusing is that we’d learn the dogs’ names way before asking the owners their names. I personally am always interested in how the dogs’ names were chosen: anime (about which I know nothing), Disney characters, mythic heroes and heroines most frequently. (Penelope was Odysseus’s very clever wife—and wishful thinking on our part when we chose it.)
Another real plus is we’ve met people of all ages and from every walk of life (not so easy when you’re approaching 80.) Two days ago we had the pleasure of chatting with a 16 year old who came from El Salvador in time to begin kindergarten; and yesterday he brought his girlfriend. What fun that was to meet her!
The author with Penny, while befriending another dog
I’ve also chatted with a harpist who’s performed on Broadway, a boisterous and good-humored fish monger from NYC, men and women so tattooed they could have been characters in The Illustrated Man movie (an oldie but a goodie). Almost every single person there has been interesting and a pleasure to meet—and every one is a dog lover. (I must admit, however, we stopped going to another park to avoid politically contentious conversations.)
The bottom line is this: dog parks are for people.
They’re there for us to enjoy on a beautiful day or when we feel very brave—and martyred—on a brutally cold one. (Those are shorter excursions!) You’re not only outside of your home but you’re also outside of yourself, enjoying the company of beautiful animals and caring people. You may think you’ve come for your dog’s physical health—but really, you’re there for your own, both physical and emotional well-being. Clearly every community should have a dog park to call its own.
Barbara Bengels is a full professor at Hofstra University in NY. She has published academic articles on writers as diverse as Jonathan Swift, Henry James, and H.G. Wells, as well as newspaper articles about mothering her four ( wonderful!) daughters. A favorite project was interviewing over fifty science fiction authors about their childhood. Her most prized award was granted by the NY State Teachers’ Union, shared with her husband, in recognition of their service to children and teachers in public schools.
