Tuesday, March 21, 2006
Mrs. Wigglebottom and I just got home from the dog park. We went out to the Warner Park one, because it was raining and no one was there. At first, she didn't do anything differently than she usually does when we're out on walks; she stayed just a leash length away from me. But when I went to throw her poop away, she realized that we weren't hooked together and so she began to slowly gallop over the field. I threw some balls for her, which was hilarious. She'd get really excited to watch them arch in the air and then--plunk--they'd hit her right in the head and she'd wag her tail and stand over them and look at me with this huge grin. Who knows what the fuck is up with that, but it was funny. I already knew she was never going to be a dog that played fetch, because she never lets things go. But it was hilarious to see that she's also lousy at catch. She was enthusiastic about it, but lousy at it. I wish I felt better about having her around other dogs--I'm just so afraid that if anything goes wrong, she'll automatically be the guilty party, just by virtue of how she looks that I'm afraid to be there when other people are there--because I think she'd really like it. But it tickles me to see her making happy circles in the mud and waiting for me to toss tennis balls so that she can watch as they hit the ground around her.