Once in a while, at the Dog Park,
a bad element infiltrates the proceedings,
…that is to say, someone comes lookin’ for trouble.
Most times, dogs look to their owners
for behavioral standards.
Amid the delicate tension of social interaction…
…one immediately notices the innate
scientific nature of these creatures.
Doggedly tailing their fellow sniffers,
with their ever-curious forensic noses
sifting, scrutinizing the rich scents of the earth.
That day, we crossed paths
with a Bernese Mountain Dog,
whose search for mountains in Minnesota
is destined to go in vain.
And who, after centuries of breeding,
doth not possess a thieving bone in that body.
Whereas Cooper, depending on your values,
is either blessed or cursed with a klepto streak.
Turns out Cooper’s owner thinks it’s a curse and a half. As Cooper bolted off with someone’s glove, his owner grumbled, “He thinks everything is play!”
Probably just frustrated. But when Cooper bounded back from his victory lap, the man lunged forward, seizing the dog’s nose, and with sheer adrenalin, began one-handedly hoisting Cooper up by his curly snout.
In slow motion, as if Moses were parting the Dog Park, everyone in the vicinity began to disperse. Unnerved, even the dogs retreated. In the universe, a thought bubble: Chillax. Cooper’s a dog. That’s what they do…
Some time after the incident,
Louie the French Bulldog loped over.
Offering a disarming grin,
and canine congeniality.
And his speckled ears
And his love of sticks.
We didn’t see Cooper anymore
or whether he and his owner had left.
But out of the blue
excitable visitors continued to arrive,
like this honking-sized
thick and curly labradoodle.
Tasha looks downright diminutive
around some of these visitors.
* * *
Apparently thievery is catchy,
cause just as Tash and I were leaving,
Blue’s doppelganger ran off with my glove.
After retrieving my slimey mitten,
I couldn’t resist taunting the
wide-eyed pickpocket through the fence.
T appeared to be judging.
Spurred by the need to break routine,
we ditched our normal course home,
opting to slice through the private golf park.
Of which one entire side was peculiarly snow-free.
Both of us were deeply baffled
cause on the other side of the hill…
Lay a winter wonderland…
…blanketed with pristine snow.
Tasha was beside herself.
Not only were we exploring uncharted territory,
we were illegally trespassing.
Further exploration revealed multiple secret trespassers…
Suddenly, the tinkling of distant sounds.
As we topped the ridge,
we were startled to see sledders
exploiting the broad undulating hills…
That is to say, in golf parlance,
Tasha could not believe we had missed out
all winter on that secret-sledding ground
And here it was, almost Spring!
This called for a stiff slurp (of snow) and meditation
Later, as we watched Animal Planet
reflecting on our day,
Tasha looked over as if to say,
a little military discipline never hurt anyone.
Earlier in the season,
during a dreadfully cold day,
wee Snickers dropped by the park.
Officially, Snickers is listed as a “Chiweenie,”
a cross between a Chihuahua and Dachsund.
When his owner lowered him to the ground,
he daintily inspected his circumference
while quivering like an aspen.
Snickers’ beaming owner,
pausing for a few brisk beats
just smiled inscrutably,
before gingerly scooping up the little hybrid
and tucking him back inside her snowsuit.
“Snickers – for any time”
Snickers clearly philosophizes,
* * *
At the end of the day,
the greatest thievery is
stealing someone’s heart