Dog Park Cliques

Entrance of Dog Park

While I should be thanking my lucky stars we have such a gorgeous dog park up the street from our house I find myself lamenting like a junior high student that my dogs and I just "don't fit in". Our local park district has done a dandy job of providing 36 acres of completely fenced doggie nirvana. We really have it all - over 2 acres of mowed flat areas of grass to throw a ball in or frolic with other happy dogs. Picnic tables, free doo-doo bags and sealed containers to dispose them in, water fountains and 34 acres of trails to explore, some dirt, some mowed. In addition to niceties like the Port-O-Potty for people who can't hold it the forest preserve staff even puts up little signs to alert you there is mud on some areas of the trails. When I see the sign I immediately find the muddiest dog in the double gate system leaving and ask the guardian where they had ventured, we then stay clear of that region if possible. This weekend a Spinone with a look of delight who had mud dripping from every hair was our indication to not head anywhere west of the ball playing field.

Fiona heading opposite of trail

So why do I turn into the 13 year old with braces that nobody wants to dance with at the dog park? Well - I just don't fit into any of the cliques. You see I take Caelan and Fiona to the dog park and within 5 minutes we become socially retarded from other dogs and dog guardians. First strike against us is that my dogs do not want to play with any other dogs. They are friendly with other dogs who approach them, but they have no time to mingle. While other dogs all greet each other with play bows and butt sniffs on the ball field and cavort my dogs act like they could care less. They have never even stepped paw on the lovely flat grassy areas. My dogs upon having their leashes removed take off like bats out of hell. They do not scamper over to the nicely mowed flat grassy area, they do not stride along one of the nicely carved walking trails. No, my spazzy dogs head into the overgrown brush like prison escapees looking for the fence line. Yes, 36 freakin' acres of land to RUN FREE in and my setter's first thoughts are "hmmmm, how do I escape out of here? Let me run along the fence line looking for a way out!"

Caelan taking off like a wild banshee dog

So while other dog guardians...I call them the "Popular Clique" gather at a picnic table to casually watch their dog's play on the grassy flat area I am already in panic mode that my dogs will find the one hole in the 36 acre fence line and I am off after them. The Popular Clique folks laugh and socialize, share witty dog stories and look beautiful and relaxed. They clutch cups of Starbucks in their hands and their dogs come to them when called. I hate them.

Alex in a high meadow looking for Fiona

Meanwhile my husband and I have become bounty hunters. We take off in opposite directions because of coarse Fiona and Caelan split up as soon as they take flight. We have leashes hanging around our necks in the event of capture and we use our cell phones walkie-talkie style to update one another on the dog's whereabouts "Alex, Alex, come in! I think I see Caelan's tail over that hilltop! Over and Out."

As we canvas the dog park we inevitably meet up with some of the other Cliques. There is always a "Sporty Clique" member along one of the trails. You know them. A person jogging with a Viszla along their side while wearing an Ipod. So obedient is their dog that this clique-ster can even listen to music and get some fitness in with their dog park visit. The only sound I am listening to is perhaps the faint jingle of a collar tag in the expansive meadow in front of me...is that Fiona? Let me listen carefully again...

While calling out the dog's names in vain it seems we always stumble upon my favorite clique "The-Brainiac-Dog-Know-It-All" Oh, those who frequent dog parks know this clique member well. They know everything. They know way more than you about everything dog. They know if you just properly taught your dog hand signals for the recall command you wouldn't be in this mess right now. They almost always have a fanny pack on filled with liver treats. They look at you like you are the stupidest person in the world trying to find your dog at the off leash park. While the "Popular" and "Sporty" Cliques may or may not have their official dog park pass on them at the moment, the "Brainiac-Dog-Know-It-All" not only has their dog park pass on them - they are displaying it proudly on a lanyard around their neck. Their dogs not only listen and follow commands but they do so in 3 languages, are certified therapy dogs, canine good citizens and have so many agility and fly ball awards they are creating a new level of expert for them to compete in. The "Brainiac-Dog-Know-It-All" offers to use their own dog to find yours as of coarse their dog is also certified in search and rescue and just last week dragged some orphan kittens from a burning building.

Sigh.

So like the dog park dork that I am I keep trekking until I find one of the dogs. Sometimes they are so locked on a bird or bunny I can sneak up behind them and snap a leash on. Other times they need to be rescued like when Alex found Caelan in a ravine encircled by a pricker bush. The dogs are always deliriously happy, their tongues splayed out of one side of their mouth and their eyes glazed over in a euphoric bird dog trance. Alex and I rendevous at the entrance gate where it is determined we are all equally exhausted.

Fiona looking for signs of life in the brush

One may think I just need to train the dear setters a little better to avoid this, perhaps bringing them to the park more so they are not such wild banshees? Good theory but in 3 years of bringing Fiona and Caelan every time is like the first time...leash comes undone and they are OFF!

The same theory applies to me as well I suppose. Like that 13 year old who does not fit in with the other teenagers my hope springs eternal that one day I will be like those"Popular"

dog guardians. I want to sip my Starbucks while my dog calmly follows me around the off leash park. Until then I will wade in the waist high grass yelling "FIONA!" and hope that not too many other people notice me.

Fiona and Caelan acting like they have never heard their names called before