I'm a criminal

Today I finally took Ed to the nearby dog park. After parking we headed to the fenced in area, and I quickly counted at least 41 people in there, and about that many dogs. It's a huge area and I was determined to introduce Eddie. Other than relatives, he has not mixed with dogs since his dog-school days. As we approached the gate to the ante-room, I looked for posted rules and found only "No children under 12", "no food, treats, drinks, or smoking" and "pick up the poop" (I'm paraphrasing.) So we entered with confidence.

Ed sniffed around the fencing area, and within 65 seconds he pooped. I read the rules, so I went over and grabbed a plastic bag from the container, reached my hand in the bag, picked up all the little poopy pieces (they were anxiety poopy pieces, which are always a little wetter, smellier, and messier.) I pulled my hand clutching the poopy pieces which were now all mushed together back through the bag so I could neatly tie the bag and properly dispose of it. Uhm, evidently my bag was defective.

I realized my finger felt wet. I didn't want to look, but I did, and of course messy smeary anxiety poop was all over my middle finger. OK, what to do? Thankfully I was wearing jeans,
so I cleaned my finger off best I could, leaving only a small amount jammed under my fingernail. And BTW... there were LOTS of poopy piles in the area where Ed did his business. THOSE owners cannot follow rules.

By this time Ed was way down yonder running beside a couple of dogs. I kept walking along, kind of following him and hovering as he curiously sashayed from group to group. He visited a lot of people, sometimes putting his feet up on them to get them to pet him. I think he was nervous because he couldn't see me. Once in a while he came close enough for me to call his name and he would come running with glee, get a rub on his head and take off again.

I noticed a few underage people. I also noticed one man with a pile of dogs around him, and saw him slyly slip his hand in his pocket and give something to a couple of the dogs. The lawlessness! Why can't folks follow the rules?

I eventually sat at the end of one of the numerous benches, and once Ed located me he would spend some time away then return in 2-3 minutes to check in with me. After a while another dog owner joined me and I met her dog, Toby. We chatted and watched the dogs and the people. It was a lot of fun. Suddenly a St. Bernard, an especially huge one, came over to visit. He was very friendly, clean and soft, and enjoyed being rubbed. He and a few other dogs kept winding around us and the bench, and then I heard a couple of men hollering "ma'am! MA'AM!" and they were looking and pointing at ME.

I turned my head and saw what was happening... the very tall St. Bernard was christening me, directly on my jacket. By the time I saw it, urine was running down my side onto my jeans. Damage was done, so I had nothing to do but laugh. Bernie's owner came running over with a towel for me to dry off with. A towel, because come to find out this has happened before. The next time Bernie ambled over I stood up.

Finally Ed kept hanging around the bench, climbing on the bench trying to get the other lady to pet him, and he didn't go back out and run or play. I took it as a sign he had enough and we left. My fingers are now scrubbed with a fingernail brush and my jacket and jeans are already washed. And yes we are going back and I'm taking my camera. And my own bag.

Why am I a criminal? On the way out I saw a huge billboard-type sign with all the park rules. And there it was - the next to last rule listing all the types of collars that are not allowed in the park. Ed was wearing one of the forbidden collars. The long list of rules was followed by a statement that rules would be enforced by the Tulsa Police Department. Ed and I skulked to the car.