The day begins with a ride in the car. Ears flapping, tongue hanging out, tail wagging at the passing cars with their dogs inside. How could it get more perfect?
We’re going to the dog park, they say. Wait what? A place to park your dog?
Did you say it has puppies? I love puppies! I can imagine a whole park full of puppies waiting to play with me.
We pull up. Look: puppies everywhere! Let me see, eight, nine, ten… about a hundred. Three of them see me coming and run to the gate to greet me even before we enter. A welcoming committee. How nice!
Hey, look, one of them says: a new kid!
The Mongol hordes descend. They sniff my nose, they sniff my butt, they sniff my whole body from left and right, inside and out. They come from all directions to greet me with extended snouts, not a leash in sight.
I love attention, but this is too much at once. Just back off. Give me a minute. Introduce yourselves, please, one at a time.
I do “Submission Asana”: flat on my back, paws extended. They don’t speak Yoga. I tap out, but they don’t talk Judo either. They step on my ears, my stomach, my legs. Ow, oww, owww!
Breaking free, I turn tail and run, legs without limits, paws without pause. I am Philadelphia Eagles Wide Receiver A.J. Brown, running for the goal line. I cross the 15, the 10, the 5. I am at the two-yard line, exit gate in sight when they nail me. Dogs of every size pile on: Beagles, Corgis, Schnauzers, Labradoodles, even a Dachshund. It was the best of times, it was the wurst. Somewhere at the bottom of the pile lies Keke—a tale of humility, a tale of misery, a puppy tail of mud.
But no flag thrown on the play; the referees aren’t watching.
Muncle, I cry from somewhere on the bottom of the pile. Met dese mutts moffa me! Nobody hears. Nobody cares.
After what feels like hours, I hear the distant muffle of human voices. Smelly snouts and probing paws are pried away from my bruised body.
Finally, I smell familiar hands as Dad wrestles me from the bottom of the pile.
Get me outta here, I whimper. I never want to see another puppy again as long as I live. Just give me my quiet, safe home with Mommy and Daddy and my squeaky Mousie toy. Sniff, sniff.
Aww, poor Keke! Maybe next time you'll like it better. Glad Dad rescued you, though.