A few days ago we went to the dog park. After going to Magnuson with my Aunt Sara, I’ve become quite spoiled. Regrade Park is okay if you’re desperate, but it’s just not Magnuson. No water. No beach. No grass trails. And definitely not the dogs I’m used to playing with in my own pack.
On this day, a dog named Sheba jumped on me when I was just entering the park. Sheba’s owner, Ed, recognized me. We hadn’t seen him for awhile. He was giving me a nice welcoming massage when Sheba got jealous.
Needless to say I was somewhat traumatized. I wanted to go home. But my tough mom insisted, “Gracie, you have to get over this. Hang in there awhile! Find a nice small dog to play with.”
Yeah, right. Instead I jumped up on the wall to join my best park friend, Lindsay. Lindsay understands me. She gives me treats and butt rubs. And she protects me. See how I’m sitting? I’m firmly here and not moving. Yeah, there’s a cute little dog here. Who cares? I won’t budge till my mom gives up and says we can go home.