The Dogs Don't Like the Dog Park

One of the things that sucks about selling the house is that we can get a call at 9:30AM, telling us someone wants to come by and look at the house at 11:30.  So we have to put away the cribbage board, scramble around cleaning up the house, get the dogs out of the attic and get out.  Ellen went to the store, and I took the dogs to a lovely dog park on East Orange in Pasadena.

But the dogs don't like the dog park!

Once we're in the dog park, Elliot really just follows me around.  Occasionally he'll wander away, but he doesn't stray far.  He looks at me like I'm a drugstore clerk and he's a teenager buying condoms -- can we please get this over with?

Louie, on the other hand, waltzes in and takes a look around, sniffs a few butts.  But, after about ten minutes, he trots across the width of the park to the exit door.  He then turns and sees that I haven't followed him there, and I am in fact sitting in a chair all the way back where he started.  Disappointed, he trots back to me.  A beat, then he trots all the way back to the exit door.   Then back, then forth, then back again, like a mental patient walking around the pole in "Midnight Express."  I know he wants to leave, I say to him, but we can't go back to the house yet!

Oh what the heck -- I love the dogs anyway!  Here's Louie doing his funny rolling thing: