Down Boy

Liberty Park has always been my sanctuary. Fond memories of family reunions and rides on their cranky old carousel still bring a smile to my face.

The past few years I have come to love strolling its one-mile perimeter. I’ll kick pine cones and listen to Scotty’s Greatest Hits on my iPod, while getting some fresh air and exercise. I’ve also come to get a bit jealous of the happy couples and families and dogs getting their park fix, too.

One afternoon, after completing a lap, I sat on a bench to watch the ducks and geese. It was a gorgeous day. A little boy was next to his mom throwing bread to the seagulls and laughing his head off. The pond was twinkling in the sunlight.

As I sat there in my bliss, a barking, snarling dog lunged into my lap. It was a big, mangy German Shepard. I raised my arm to fend him off. Luckily, his mouth was muzzled and he only drooled instead of bit. “Leave It! Leave it!” its tugging owner shouted and managed to pull him off of me. She and her boyfriend (both quite riff-raffy) just walked away without an apology. I watched in disbelief as they walked into the distance. The guy turned around and saw me staring. “Woof! Woof!” he shouted—laughed— and continued walking. I sat there shaking like a leaf until I could gather my wits and drive home.

Although I desperately need the exercise and head cleanse, I’ve only been back to the park a few times since then. The geese and the pine cones are still there. Sadly, the love is not.