“Last year was her first year of teaching,” my new acquaintance Robin explained. “She finds virtual to be heartbreaking because school is where many of her students get their food…and their love.”
“Where does she teach?” I asked.
“Indiana…”
In the ten minutes or so since we’d met, we chatted about her 8 month Golden—Wilbur, Henrietta’s wild side, the morning’s snow, and were diving into deeper banks when a meaty black lab mix and it’s owner entered through the dog park’s double gate.
The twolegs was dapper in form fitting winter bundle. He sported a neatly trimmed beard and festive scarf which gave me a moment’s pause…un-showered, no make-up, purple parka, mittens with holes…Gail, It’s fine…you’re at the dog park…this isn’t about you.
Wilbur, legs as tall as Henny’s entire frame, was jumping on the new arrival.
“I’m sorry,” my fellow dog owner called.
“Not a problem,” came the reply. “I am a dog trainer…did you see how I grabbed his paw, held it, and he stopped. Can I give him a treat?”
I never did catch the dog trainers name, but he did put on a show.
He got his dog Roscoe to bow on command…
to answer “Ruff!” when asked, “What do you call the top of a house?”
and he tried to make some progress with Wilbur and Henri.
Wilbur stuck to the man like glue…hoping for more treats.
Henny would have nothing to do with him. When he called her, she’d race toward him, leap just far enough away that he could not catch her paw, and then kept going.
“Do you think dogs read you and what you’re up to?” I asked.
“Yes, some are more difficult than others,” he replied.
Robin said she and Wilbur needed to get going.
Henny and I followed suit.
When I worked in kindergarten, I learned one new student can change the entire dynamic of a classroom.
I guess that happens at the dog park, too.
S-o-o-o... Henny opted out of the free self improvement course? Marches to a different drummer perhaps. I’m glad I zoomed in on your picture to read the plaque. It does dovetail nicely with today’s BFN topic. Happy day!