The Dog Park: The Retelling

Rule #2 of Dog Park: What happens at the dog park will forever be retold at the dog park.

With the last of the "June Gloom" mornings lifting their foggy weight from the coastal lands, last Saturday morning proved to exceptionally beautiful.  The soft sunshine of the morning brought with it many additional dogs to the park.  As usual, the characters mentioned in the previous blog installment were nearly all in attendance and there was to be found several new ones: The Retired Vet, The Stepford Couple, and REI Loyalists.  These new characters not only made people watching much more fun but sent The Talker into busy-body heaven. If anyone has ever witnessed a child jumping into a pit of balls you will understand The Talkers excitement level.

A typical occurrence at the dog park is for at least one person to mistake your dog for another.  Once the innocent little question of "Is your dog the one that [fill in the blank]?", that's when the stories begin.


Today it was The Stepford Couple who caused the round of storytelling to begin.  The Stepford Couple, is an impeccably groomed husband and wife who are easily identified by their J. Crew looks which extend down to their one son and either golden retriever or lab.  This foursome usually enters the park, quite content with their own company but soon are pulled into the mix when the picture frame worthy dad attracts the attention of several of the dogs while playing fetch with his dog Maggie.  It was during one of the husband's many throws that one of the dogs ran directly into a tree. As most dogs do, it staggered a couple feet backwards and shook itself before rejoining the pack now on their way back to the throwing source.  This tiny incident brought several "Oh no!" and even more stifled laughs when the dog showed no signs of harm.   The Retired Vet's laugh was the loudest and in an equally booming voice announced "I had a dog like that once! Dang thing ran straight into a tree and shook the entire ground. Dumbest dog I ever owned." Laughter and "dumbest dog ever" stories began pouring forth from everyone.

As quickly as it began, the laughter and stories were cut short by the shadow of the Macho Man entering the park. Unlike most mornings, his usually blank expression was edged with annoyance. It was the chattering half conversation coming from behind his massive frame that was the source of his disgruntlement.  The Woman had decided to come with him to the park and, as I suspect was their usual state of existence, he led while she followed, chatting away on the phone and only stopping to address him with a complaint.  The Man and his canine began their usual route around the park, content in their solitude, but were forced to stop when The Woman and her Napoleon-complexed pooch grew tired of walking.  Light conversation resumed amongst the group but it was the mind-numbing conversation The Woman was having that captured most of our attention.  Glancing briefly at the faces in the small huddle, one could see brain celling writhing in agony due to the superficial topic of the phone conversation. It was at this low point that The Average Joe took it upon himself to chuck a ball down the length of the park. Hearing the whizz of the ball above our heads, the group shuffled out of the way before the flurry of slobber and fur that rush passed.  The Average Joe's face beamed with delighted at the dog pack's reaction until a shrill scream pierced the air.  Heads whipped and necks jerked all in the direction of the scream, while eyes searched for an explanation.

Through our squinting eyes, all that could be seen was a pair of hot pink wedges waving in the air.  Unaware of the natural rules of the dog park The Woman had failed to observe the flying ball or the pack of five dogs racing after it.  Her pooch had at least known what was coming and fled from the oncoming herd, only now returning to it's masters side to lick and yap it's apologies for abandoning her.  Giggles spread like a plague through the group and even amongst the slew of half cursings, the Macho Man's stone like face cracked into a half smile whenever he was sure The Woman's wasn't looking. Quickly The Woman  uprighted herself and made a bee-line towards the dog park exit. Each step an overdramatic hobble. Obligingly the Macho Man followed.

Though he never participates in group conversations I'm sure he left that day with the knowledge that this event would now become a staple dog park retelling.

Rape of Europa Documentary

The Rape of Europa is one of the most extraordinary documentaries I have had the pleasure of viewing.  After watching this amazing story, I'm ashamed to say I graduated college with a Bachelors degree in Art History without every knowing about incredible time in the world of Art History.  In some small fair way, I did graduate prior to this documentaries making but even so there should have been more said about the WWII era in Art History than "Hitler wanted to be a painter but was rejected." and "Nazi's hated modern art."

Really???

That was all that was said about this time period???

Nothing was mentioned about the extraordinary lengths to which the great museums of Europe went to protect their priceless treasures or of the thousands of Jewish gallery owners forced to flee for their lives because Hilter had an art fetish.

Out of the thousands of stories the documentary weaved together so
incredibly well, the one that stuck out the most to me was of a quite French art historian by the name of Rose Valland.  This incredible woman not only braved a Nazi occupied France but was able to spy on the Nazi's for four years!  In an age where everything is recorded on our cell phones or other electronic devices it is hard to image the daily feat memorizing each piece of art work that enters the Jeu de Paume Museum, where it came from and where it was being shipped to!  In four years this one woman was able to record more than 20,000 pieces of art, that's 13 pieces to memorize every day for four years!!  In college I remember nights chocked full of coffee and handwritten notes. My eyes blurring with the titles, artist names and dates of the works I would be tested on the following morning.  Remembering these futile exercise in memorization causes a slight shade of shame to appear on my cheeks when I read what little there is about this amazing woman.


After watching the documentary my book-shelf wish-list is piling high with Lynn Nicholes' Rape of Europa, Robert Edsel & Bret Witter's Monument Men and Rose Valland's Le Front de L'art (If I can find an english translation).

If anyone out there can offer any additional suggestions on books detailing this incredible period of Art History or further insight into the amazing life of Rose Valland please let me know!

Dog Park: The Anatomy

While most of my posts and interests lie in things buried by time, the characters that inhabit the world today prove just as fascinating to me as those belonging to a lost civilization.  Often archeologists and historians like to speculate on the social dynamics of our ancestors.  It is my opinion that while the human species has advanced by leaps and bounds in the technological realm, when it come to the social realm we have yet to travel very far. And I have a feeling that I am not alone in this thinking.

As such, I've decided to study the anatomy of the dog park microcosm.

Rule #1 of the Dog Park: Henceforth you shall no longer be known by your given name.  Within the chain link fence barrier you shall be solely addressed as "[Insert Dog Name]'s mom/dad".

The Characters

The Talker
Usually played by a middle aged, mother of two who alone possess more life experience that you will ever have the opportunity to obtain.  Her pride comes from knowing the names of every dog that enters said park. Providing anyone within hearing distance the full rundown history on the dog and how she has helped.  If by chance a canine, with which she is not familiar with, enters her layer it is like watching a vulture circle it's next meal.  The simple thought of not knowing the canine or it's unsuspecting owner, burns her very core. For her it is a sub-conscience quest to impart her infallible training knowledge to one and all.  If you have ever been sucked in by one, you understand the excruciating irritation of being told how you should have trained your dog and where you should now stand on the upcoming city council elections.

The Lesbian
This character stands in complete contrast to her loquacious counter-part.  She arrives to the dog park in knee length shorts, a well worn hoody and hair in complete disarray.  Her pup of choice is either a German Shepard or a scraggly black mut.  The dog is by default a male and possess a name like Beecher or Flynn. A honorarium to the great feminists of old.  Before entering the park, you know is there. Her car, a unidentifiable blue vehicle is decked out in hiking and feminist rights bumper stickers.  She is a great resource for learning the best places to take your dog.

The Macho Man
His presence is usually immediately felt by sudden depart of sunlight that is blocked by his enormous frame.  He and his equally muscular dog, make a quiet entrance, you know the type that says, "I'm here, end of story."  While the normal reaction of any dog entering the dog park is either one of excitement or hesitation, his canine enters seeming unaware of the furry shuffle that is now ensuing around him.  Instead he proceeds to embark on his one and only mission: mark everything.  Interaction for these two is not why they come, for them this is an escape.  Both master and canine relish this silent weekly outing, for waiting at home is the woman and her teacup barking nightmare ready to shatter their newly found quite with the latest mind-numbing celebrity gossip.

The Average Joe
This character is quite a conundrum. While his presence is essential to the balance of the park, he is one that no one remembers.  As the name implies, he is rather nondescript, in fact you will more than likely forget him the moment you have left his side. His dog is equally forgettable, a rescue mixed breed who's interests lie only in bouncing around the dog park and getting into wrestling matches with other dogs.  The Average Joe has one tale-tale sign, in his possession is always the faithful, but unused, "Chuck It!"

Me
The token young female, who despite being in her late 20s, is often mistake for a college student thanks to the staple Saturday morning attire: yoga pants with writing down one leg and well worn zip-up sweater.  Usually spotted with a particularly faithful breed of dog, here in the security of the chain link fence, it wants nothing more than to run.  This particular trait tends to perk the Average Joe's attention as he believes he has finally found a dog who might actually find enjoyment out of the Nickelodeon-esk plastic sling he bears.