At the Dog Park

Everyone is an expert at the Dog Park:

“Oooh, your Border Collie is beautiful. I’ve never seen one with markings quite like that.” That’s because The Vedder is a Sheltie, he’s just big for his breed.

“What’s his name, Better?” No, it’s Vedder. “Vetter, like Corvette?” No Vedder. “Vedder? What’s that mean?” It’s the last name of the lead singer of a band I like. I’m sure cookie, or snowball, or wolf would have been more suitable names but Vedder is what he’s got.

When we’re at the dog park, The Vedder cares about two things. His ball, and me. It’s difficult to get him to play with other dogs, he’ more interested in me throwing the ball, outrunning the other dogs to get to it and bringing it back to me. Occasionally, a good game of chase gets going and The Vedder takes up the tail end, pushing the other dogs in the direction he thinks they should go. All the while, he keeps his ball in his mouth.

“I don’t think it’s very healthy for your dog to be carrying that ball around in his mouth all the time,” says the woman in pressed jeans watching her golden-doodle prance pleasantly around the dog park.

“Well, if he doesn’t keep it in his mouth, he barks. A lot. Loudly. It’s better for everyone if he just holds onto it. Doesn’t seem to bother him any, really.” I smile as kindly as a can from under the brim of my baseball hat and wonder if I should have dressed nicer for the park.

“He’s your dog, but it seems borderline abusive to me. He must have trouble breathing.” Abusive? A tennis ball that he wants to be carrying around? Has this woman ever heard a Sheltie bark, really bark?

“Maybe you’re right. Vedder!” The Vedder comes to me, and I remove the tennis ball from his mouth. Instantly the barking begins. “You’re right, this is much better. He can breathe great now!” I yell. The barking has attracted all the other dogs in the park to The Vedder, most likely they all want him to shut up as much as their owners who are all staring at me do. One dog, Iggy, The Vedders enemy gets too close. Fearing the loss of his ball to the overweight black lab, The Vedder shows his teeth and growls low in his belly. The growl grows into a strange sound that can be most accurately described as a mix between a bark, and a baby crying. I call it talking when he does it to me at home. He continues this sound until I hand him his ball.

“You’re dog certainly is aggressive. Maybe you shouldn’t bring him to the dog park at all.” The expert adds this one last piece of advice before trotting away with her designer dog.

“Maybe I should just let him keep his ball.”