Relationships

"I don't read your blog," a friend told me bluntly, but with a hint of apology in the tone. "I'm just not interested in dogs."

"It's not really about dogs," I told her. "It's about how people interact because of dogs, and how dogs affect your life."

"Oh," she said. She's still not going to read my blog.

Once upon a time you were bound to your family and friends by ties of blood and proximity. If you were lucky, these people shared your hobbies, interests, and values. If they didn't, you pursued them alone. Our metropolitan world and the Internet have allowed us to expand our lives to include people who, in a different time, we could never have met. Thus we form many social communities, with various purposes and payoffs. Though it clearly has many benefits, sometimes it leads to a fractured sense of self.

It should be clear by now that I don't just go to the dog park for Our Best Friend. And it's not really in my best interest either; I get more benefit actually walking the dog than standing around chatting. But I love meeting people who have no expectation of who I should be. No one at the park worries about my parenting, wonders about the depth of my religious commitment, or cares what I do for a living. I'm just another dog owner, one with a beautiful dog who attracts looks, questions, and admiration because he comes when called.

We had a nice day last week. I think it was Thursday. As a result, there were actually people at the park, instead of just icy wind, and better yet, people (and dogs) I know. Four of us, including Ronnie, chatted about dogs, dog sitters, the weather. Ronnie mentioned someone not present. "You all know Bob, right?" The three of us shook our heads. "You don't know Bob? He has a lab cross, Happy."

Our frowny faces immediately cleared. "Oh, of course I know him!" I said. Happy is one my favourite dogs. "His name is Bob?" I looked at the other two people standing there. "Let's be honest. Who here knows the names of more dogs than owners?" And all three of us raised our hands. Even funnier, we didn't ask if we knew each other's names. I'm pretty sure we avoided that 'cause none of us do. Ronnie, on the other hand, probably does. That's why he's Ronnie.

Such is the convoluted nature of relationships in the modern age. People whose names I don't know care more about my dog than people related to me by blood. They've watched him grow, offered advice, and encouraged me to persevere in spite of Our Best Friend's on-going issues. Likewise, most of my friends don't read my blog; strangers do. Strangers whom I'm getting to know through commenting back and forth through cyberspace. My best friend is running a marathon, but it's a blogger across the continent who successfully guilted me into walking my dog more regularly, in spite of the weather.

But friends from cyberspace or the dog park don't pick my kids up from school when I can't make it. They don't meet me for lunch, come over and cut my bangs to save me a trip to the salon, or listen to my personal woes on demand. We don't share holidays and life cycle events. Saying "We're on a first-name basis" usually connotes intimacy; at the dog park it's just one step above a no-name basis. At the end of the day, they are still strangers whom I know nothing about except what kind of dog they have. We have little in common except a love of dogs; my friends and I have much in common except a love of dogs. It all balances out.

I am grateful to live in a time when I have the opportunity to meet different people with whom I can share different parts of myself-- my kids, my dog, my writing, my neuroses. (Maybe no one else is happy about that, but some people put up with it.) To my friends and family in the here and now, who aren't reading this (and to the half-a-dozen that are): Thanks for being part of my life. I hope I’ve been a good friend back. To the subscribers, who read and leave the occasional comment: Thanks for keeping me from shouting in the wind. It motivates me to keep writing (and to walk the dog). And to my dog park friends, the focus of all this effort, and who have no idea I keep this blog: I'll see you later at the park.

Fun at the Park

In spite of what my recent posts sound like, we have taken Our Best Friend to the park a few times in the last few weeks.  And it's still the fun place that inspired me to start this blog in the first place.

I am always amazed at the number of new dogs (and new people) I meet.  I keep thinking that after over a year, coming several times a week at different times of the day, I should know everybody by now.  Yet there are always new dogs and new people, making for different experiences each time.

At the beginning of September I struck up a conversation with a woman who told me that she and her partner had just moved to the nieghbourhood, bringing four children and a dog together in a new, blended family.  Yes, it was stressful and hectic, but wonderful too, and coming to the dog park was something they all loved.  She even told me her name, and I gave her mine.  She said she looked forward to seeing us again, I think because we're also one of the rare "families" that come.  Naturally I haven't seen her since, and of course, I've also forgotten her name.  But I hope we see each other again too.  I want to hear that the two families are really becoming one, and see a happy ending unfolding in front of us.

We also met a young man with his girlfriend and his young miniature pinscher.  I didn't even recognize the dog as a miniature pinscher, as it was smaller than most, with no black at all, only brown.  I thought it was a rat terrier or chihuahua, and it ran through the park faster than the greyhounds.  Just watching it go was highly entertaining, but I found when I reached out my hand to make friends, it backed off.  "He's nervous around people," the owner explained.

Meanwhile, his girlfriend was tentatively reaching out toward Our Best Friend, who was being his usual aloof self with a stranger.  "Can I pat him?" she asked anxiously.  "I'm still nervous around dogs, but I'm trying to get over it."  We assured her that Our Best Friend was perfectly harmless, and she patted him gingerly, starting when he moved.  The irony was amazing: a dog afraid of people, and a girlfriend afraid of dogs.  This dude never has to worry that she'll steal the dog if they break up. 

And we did see old friends too.  There's Happy, a black lab cross who "talks" in a highly distinctive hoarse bark.  Princess, the golden retriever, always comes trotting fast when she sees my girls; she lives to be patted by small children, and mine are happy to oblige.  Her owner is a slightly eccentric older woman with an amazing European air.  She has her group of friends that she likes to chat with, but she's always gracious to my girls and we have a very cordial rapport.  Sierra, a thirteen-year-old poodle, capers like a puppy and comes to press her head against me for a love, especially after her owner tells off for eating dirt.  And we even saw Pal, whom I hadn't seen in months, a "goth" Dalmation with black rings around both his eyes and a sweet disposition.  His owner is a quiet but friendly young woman, and we all spent a good ten minutes marvelling at the amount of white fur that covered the picnic table he was sitting on.  My Oldest's skirt was covered in tiny white hairs when she was done playing.  Lesson learned: Dalmation owners should not wear black.

And there were days I went and didn't see a soul I knew, or talk to anyone.  You see people sitting on benches reading, talking on their cels, or actually playing with their dog.  Whenever I go mid-morning, I try to remember to bring my iPod so I feel less alone.  I know that's also part of the dog park experience, but the truth is, I like the interactive times better.  I see the dog as a catalyst to relationships between people.  The category "dog lover" is the common denominator that makes us find other factors we might share.  And anything that helps people get along better is a good thing.