Wag The Dog

Do you have any idea how difficult it is to walk the trails with a six month old? A twenty pound six month old??!!More than my Helga the Mud-Wrestler arms can handle, I can tell you that. I have considered those back pack thingies. Goodness knows the baby would love it. He always wants to be up on Daddy's shoulders raining down on the peons his benevolent dictatorship (and drool). I don't know if I can handle the whole backpack thing. I'm willing to try. I ought to soon, though, seeing as how they aren't supposed to go in them after a certain point. Who knows, I might've passed it already. It's not uncommon for me to be a day short and a dollar late. Or...wait...never mind. That probably does sum it up best.

One of the great things about living on Block Island is walking the beach. Certain strollers work best on the beach. I'm getting one of those. They last a lot longer than a baby backpack. But I'm already digressing and I haven't even started pontificating yet (thought I'd throw that in that word in honor of the new Pope - old Ratzinger, new...what's his name? Benedict the Sixteenth or something?). Four years ago I started walking the beaches early in the morning (hey! Seven IS early for me, all right?) and/or later in the afternoon ( 5 or 6 ish). I met some really nice people - especially in the morning. Dog people. Oh ho, so THAT's what this is really about. Dog people - true dog lovers - get up at 7 in the morning whether they want to or not. They take their large, water lovin' retrievers down to the beach (which is conveniently located less than 5 minutes away from my front door) and let them run, chase tennis balls and frolic in the autumn mist...I mean, waves. At 7 a.m., none of the dog walkers have brushed their teeth, or even remembered to put on deodorant. Heck, we don't even have names at the beach. We're "the Newfie's Mom" and "The five Corgies' Dad" and silly stuff like that. Some of us are out all the time, some only for the duration of a vacation. Almost all of us are incredibly responsible dog owners - why else would we be out running on the beach with tennis balls at seven on a perfectly good Saturday morning?

My dog is so gorgeous he should be on a dog food commercial. I kid you not. This dog rocks! He is gorgeous and friendly and athletic and - when at the beach - well mannered. He does run up to passers by and greet them by panting loudly and wagging his tail. Sometimes, when he was a puppy, he'd get too close and once he shook on somebody. But they were dog people, too, and laughed about it. He loves the other dogs but is easily intimidated and would much rather just walk with me and chase his beloved ball. I work hard at teaching him the proper place to relieve himself and sometimes I carry along a garden trowel, when I actually remember, for the times when he doesn't get close enough to the dunes. I also teach him to stay out of the dunes and...oh yeah, come when called. I don't take him to the beach during peak hours and when I do take him to the beach with the family, it's to someplace like Andy's Way, where we all can frolic in the autumn mist...waves...Damn song cues get me every time...where other dog lovers and their families are usually frolicking as well.

There's no dog run here on the island. There's lots of large, water lovin' retrievers of different ilk. Many people who live here get these particular breeds of dog not just because all the other guys at work have one, but because this is/was a great place to raise a dog.

Now, I'm not saying that people should be subjected to dog owners who don't follow the rules or teach their dogs manners, or bring them to inappropriate places or at inappropriate times. But I don't think those who DON'T own dogs have any more or less rights than those who do. And while there are always exceptions to rules, and there are always those irresponsible dog owners who give the rest of us a bad name, why shouldn't I be allowed to enjoy the beach with my dog early in the morning?

In case you don't know...the signs are now posted at all the beach entrances that all dogs must be leashed. Which...okay, whatever. Yeah, they're not telling me my dog can't be on the beach with me. They're just telling me that my dog can't run, can't chase his tennis ball, can't frolic in the autumn mist and can't enjoy my company as we have these last four years.

Geez, who's gonna tell my dog?