Some people have the luxury of slipping in and out of dog parks anonymously, having experienced the sole pleasure of watching their dog kick it National Geographic style.Some people aren't afforded that luxury, say owners of Great Danes and St. Bernards, whom always draw curious onlookers with questions. Not only do I own a brindle (tiger-striped) ex-racing greyound complete with tattoos in her ears, she makes a dash for every human she sees and leans her weight on them, ingratiating herself. Then follows the polite nods, the questions about her shady past and so forth.
I'm not complaining, but need to point out that these social formalities would be much more pleasurable were mental illness less prevalent at dog parks. What is going on with these people? There's the famous Mulholland Dog Park woman who stretches across the picnic tables languidly, drawing slowly on her cigarette and trawling for men amidst a sea of dog poop. Her set-up is nearly flawless, say for the Clorox wipes at her side. Anti-bacterial wipes are one thing, but bleach?
I visited the football field-sized dog park in Encino, as it was rated "Best Of" in Los Angeles. I'm a sucker for any "Best Of" - at least once. Well, the park is divided into two, one gated area is labeled "Timid," the other, "Macho." I thought the "Macho" title was cool; I like picking up on insider lingo, much like people do when ordering off the secret menu at In-N-Out. During my first visit, I asked a seemingly normal woman if this were the "Macho" field, and she scoffed defensively, "Well my dog is not macho." Reader, beware of any person who always emphasizes the "my" in "my dog." I let her know that it was insider lingo and she scoffed uncomfortably, clutching her canine and arguing, "Well, me and my dog have been coming here every day for years and I've never heard anyone call it macho." Laughing, I told her it was just a figure of speech, and she stormed off. Was she mad at me? I wondered if she never heard "macho" because no one had ever spoken to her. Naturally, I kept a curious eye on her and noticed she conversed with no one and stood with pursed lips, following her dog's every move.
The "my dog" people can never admit that their dog has faults or that there is something manic in their believing they can convince the world their pet is perfect. Every single dog in this world can be duped into doing something hilarious at our expense, where we can rightfully shake our heads and say, "stupid animal."
The last time I visited the Encino Dog Park, I saw a girl with buff, Madonna-like arms.
"Do you do yoga?" I asked.
"I used to."
"What do you do now, lift cars?"
"No, I box. I pound the sh*$! out of boxing bags because I have a lot of rage inside of me."
I take two steps back and ask, "What happens when you're not angry anymore?""Oh, I will ALWAYS be angry! As long as animals are being killed and tortured so we can wear FURS and eat BURGERS I will continue to-"
This went on for a while. I think I started to tune out when she was screaming about the Olympics being held in a communist country, but that's only because I saw her arm veins bulging and could not stop staring. Of course, my dog rubbed against her adoringly the entire time. Stupid animal.
I don't know if it's the methane from dog poop that is turning these people into serious contenders for reality T.V., but we should experiment. I say everyone should do their duty and start picking up the poop, just in case.
