As the days slowly move towards Spring and
Summer, so do the recollections of those activities we incorporated into our
weekly schedule; washing of the cars; cutting of the lawns; and of course, visits
to the local Dog Park for Oscar in order to refurbish his pack skills; ever
laboring to extinguish his persistent disposition of being in charge of the humans residing with
him. The more I go to these parks the
more I’m prone to play a game with my wife. We call it guess who owns which dog before the owner calls his pet.
It’s
amazing how quickly you can hone your skills into identifying subtle
characteristics that lead to excellence in identifying who belongs with
whom. Tough, overbearing terrier belongs
to paramilitary looking bald dude with dark sunglasses obscuring where he is glaring. Excessively primped Yorkie belongs to excessively
primped Prima Donna wearing, of all things, stiletto heels with accenting
stiletto nails; who also happens to stand aloof in the shade from the other
doggie parents; fine by us lady.
Speaking of which; Yorkies.
Before I get side tracked, let me be clear on the term used for
exceedingly small York Terriers. Comes to find out, there is no such thing as a
Teacup Yorkie. It is a misleading
marketing gimmick by some dog breeders who claim to sell tiny teacup Yorkshire
terriers. According to the American
Kennel Club, there is no separate breed, but often what is a teacup Yorkie is a
dog that weighs no less than 4 pounds and no more than 7 pounds. All Yorkshire terriers belong to the toy
group of dogs. If someone has a dog smaller than 4 pounds the animal will be
extremely frail and bred using unethical practices. I read that for my own edification of what a
teacup Yorkie was/is/or seems, is not. So the dog I had been staring at was a
Frankenstein manifestation of the worse type.
If I tossed the water in my Smartwater bottle on it, then maybe it would
weigh a pound. Roscoe (an obvious compensation ploy) was by far the most poorly
equipped creature for the Dog Park. Now I
must add that Dog Park Etiquette prohibits pointing and laughing at any pet in
the compound. It’s only decent to
refrain from overt sustained laughter or judgment of dogs appearance; they may
develop an inferiority complex, but more concerning, the owners of said object
of ridicule may behave worse than any neurotic dog; possibly including yelling
and screaming and throwing feces like a monkey in a zoo at the offender. So what is a citizen to do but invoke the
Stand Your Ground Law, (here in Georgia anyway) and brandish a nickel plated
Magnum in order to get out without a lot of blood and violence. I’m kidding of course, we don’t resort to gun
play in Dog Parks…it’s forbidden.
Back
to Roscoe: He pranced around being
extremely friendly and amazing anyone who set eyes on him; mostly due to his diminutive
size; he was like a doll size head attached to tiny appendages going like crazy
underneath; it just didn’t look real.
Montse commented that she’d never have a dog like that.
“Why not?” I inquired.
“I’d end up sucking him up in with the vacuum hose when I clean. Oh no, there goes coco….again” She chuckled.
That kept me
amused for the remainder of our time there.
Every time I set eyes on Roscoe I’d snort over what she had said, even
if I was getting dagger eyes from stiletto woman. I just couldn’t bring myself
to telling her about the vacuum comment and my vivid imagination. Alas, caution was the better counsel for this
visit so we left early.
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