I had a new experience last evening by participating in “Yappy Hour,” an evening ritual at the neighborhood dog park. My wife and our schnauzer Tally had attended before, but this was my first. I would describe it as a bunch of old people who bring their own booze, sit on benches or lawn chairs, and watch their puppies intermingle. The young pups are always very active, one persistently chasing a frisbee, but the older dogs like Tally who’s now over eleven take a more cautious approach. I was amazed that another schnauzer named Cody was nearly Tally’s twin – same age, size, and black coloring. However, Tally now has a lot of gray in her beard that was purposely thinned out recently by her new groomer. By the time we arrived in Venice, after the long, grueling car trip, it was gnarled and crusty, with long overdue need for attention. Also, Tally still has her full tail while Cody has just a stub and is a male. Otherwise, it’s hard to tell them apart.
The dog park is the epicenter of what’s happening in our Islandwalk neighborhood. My wife comes home every morning with new gossip about people I’ve yet to meet and places we’ve yet to go. This morning she brought Tally home and turned right around and headed to a water aerobics class. She’s getting into the social life, while I stubbornly resist too much effort. She’s already planning to host the second of our neighborhood block parties in our lanai, a step up from the driveway getaway a month ago. We met a number of residents along with their dogs, but I constantly have to refer to my cheat sheet to refresh my memory. Starting new friendships is an exhausting process, similar to what Tally is going through at the dog park.
The frisbee chasing Sophie seems to be her best friend. Her doggie mom, Kathleen, has been very helpful in directing us to a groomer and dog sitter. I foresee a get together of spouses soon, as her husband is also a Cubs fan. I will let me wife direct our friendships, since in the past she’s always been forced into mine. I had built-in friends of 50-years when we moved to Portland, while my wife had her daughter and a few work acquaintances. We’ve never had mutual neighborhood friends, but “Yappy Hour” seems to be the first step.
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