Louise, in the foreground, Zeus, catching up, and a dog buddy at Central Bark.
Cesar Milan says, "exercise, discipline, then affection." That is the secret to a well-adjusted dog. But like millions of other Americans, though we understand just how true Cesar's mantra is, we don't quite follow it.
I guess it's a case of good parent/ bad parent. I, by the way, am the bad parent. Mick, therefore, is the good parent. Almost. We or he should be walking the dogs on a leash daily, but they are happy enough with their current routine.
Mick has begun exercising by proxy. Instead of him exercising every day, he loads the dogs in the truck and takes them to Central Bark, Dallas, Oregon's only dog park. There, Mick stands and watches the dogs run around like crazy.
Louise is a little slower, doesn't run nearly as much, but she sniffs, squats, and squirts almost non-stop.
Zeus does his Underdog impression by flying through the air, getting all the spectator's legs muddy, licks other dogs' faces, gets rolled around and goes and goes and goes.
Mick stands and watches. He talks to the other dog parents, most of whom seem to be older and retired. They are all very friendly (as are their dogs) and seem to be completely devoted. They are all upstanding citizens and their exercise consists of throwing a ball or frisbee, or walking across the park to scoop up poop when necessary. Most of their exercise consists of flapping their jaws and rotating their necks or eyeballs. Mick is probably losing weight.
Monday through Friday I get up at 5:15 a.m. and get out one of my exercise DVDs and exercise vigorously for 30 to 50 minutes. I mix it up between strength and cardio. Weight loss so far: nada, nothing, a big fat zero. I should be at the dog park drinking Starbucks.
Instead, I drive to work and work in direct care for some significantly developmentally disabled individuals, a job that is rewarding, exhausting, and at times boring and frequently gross. Believe me, scooping dog poop is the lesser of the two evils on the gross scale. (The other day while shadowing, I got to see just a tad of what is in store for me. One individual had gone out in his own back yard and stepped in cat diarrhea and had then come into the house. So the person training me got him to the bathroom and got to wash his feet. For the rest of the afternoon, whenever this man went outside, I was paranoid about the pile of cat diarrhea. Also, we have to record the number, size, and appearance of some of our people's bowel movements. Good times.). Some days the dog park and fancy coffee looks very inviting indeed. However, if I were at home instead of going to work, I'd throw the dogs outside and sit down at my computer to work and write to you and I wouldn't have nearly so many poop stories. Then where would we be? Like I said, I'm the bad parent.
The dogs are deliriously happy these days. They are very pleased to have Mick back and their daily sojourns are doggie paradise. Dogs are social creatures and need social inter-action with their own kind. I'm glad they're getting their little play dates. They come home with bladders empty and spirits full. Then they sleep. All day long.
Louise is in the middle of her sniff and squirt circuit, while a dog buddy checks her out and says "hello".
Zeus is actually in front of Louise, barely visible, and that is a puggle friend, who looked like a more slender cousin of Zeus's bringing up the rear. Here, Mick treks across the park to pick up a pile of poop. Good times at Central Bark.
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