Adventures in Piss and Agony: The Chapparal Dog Park

My family and I woke up to a promising, typically warm spring Sunday here in the valley, and we were excited to get outside and enjoy the weather. After a quick breakfast and only a couple mild tantrums, it was decided we would start the day by taking Tigerlily, our loopy lab, to the dog park. We loaded the crew into the car, turned on the Gaga, and headed off. The dog park that is closest to our home is located right in the heart of Scottsdale, which, for those of you who aren't local, is typified by spray tans, $$$, and an assorted slew of acronyms-BMI, IRA, MVP, you get the idea. Not always the coziest, friendliest bunch, but generally not totally unbearable. Until today. We arrived at the dog park as usual and without incident, pleasantly surprised that they had a side of it open that we had never been in before, all grassy and pretty with litttle hills. Our dogs favorite thing to do at the dog park is haul ass in circles. She runs and runs and runs, occassionly cruising by one of us at close range, like a missile narrowly missing its target. Now, usually I wear the baby carrier and wear our infant son Jude on our chest when we go. However, as I'm nursing a back injury, my husband was wearing the baby today. Unfortnately, during one of her high speed grazes, she knocked Ken on his ass, taking Jude down with him. Undoubtedly, no one was to blame for this but our dumb dumb dog, They were both okay, but it scared the holy crap out of the baby, and he was screaming like a hooker in church. I took him from Ken to comfort him, and went to sit in the shade on this little concrete block. He had just started to mellow out, and we were all finally recovering from the sting of embarrassment that comes from being the spectacle of the dog park, when this obese, grey blob of a dog saunters over and while I'm not paying attention , starts to piss all over my legs and brand new, supercute zebra print sandals. DEATH!!!! I screamed-which made Jude start wailing again. The incompetent and flakesville owner runs up and says a half-ass sorry, then points me in the direction of some water before walking off. BITCH-how about offering to pay for my new Roxy flops that you're lumbering piss wagon of a dog just ruined. No one offered to help in anyway, and I was left standing, dripping pee, with a screaming, crying baby. People sure had no problem staring at our crisis, but God forbid someone offer up their water bottle so I could rinse my legs and feet. At this point, I was over it, and just wanted to get the hell out of dodge and to go home and rinse Romeo's piss pheremones off my leg. So, we round up Tigerlily, grab the toddler and the baby and start making our way out, being ogled by the unresponsive, unhelpful, inconsiderate inhuman dog park patrons of central Scottsdale. So, I'm holding my 3 yr olds hand at this point, as we're walking out, and in walks this short, fat squat turtle of a man with his short, fat, squat English Bulldog. Well, as soon as the lil homie was let off his leash, he made for Scarlet like she was made of bacon, jumping up and tackling her. Ken kicked the dog off of her, and then I grabbed it by its collar to hold it back. Meanwhile the slothlike asshole owner is just slowly mosying over, taking his time, not at all concerned by his dogs actions and attack. Ken says to him, "Dude, do you want to hurry and get your dog that just attacked my daughter," and all slob-troll says is"Its a dog park", all curt and nasty. I damn near lost my mind. I proceeded to get all Chuco town hoodrat on him, and was like" Maybe you shouldn't take your damn dog in public if it thinks kids are edible". At this point, he entire dog park was watching us like we were an episode of Cops, and we scooped up our babes and fled that seen as fast as humanly possible. Seriously-zero humanity present in that park today. Granted, I felt like I was trappped in a bad sitcom-who has all this bad shit happen in literally only 5 minutes of being at the dog park? We could feel the scorn of the elitist childless upon us, people who elevate their pets to god-like status to fill the void their empty, latte fueled lives leaves in their barely existent souls. These are the same people who, when the finally have kids through IVF at 48, will raise them to be disrespctful, self absorbed douchbags in the name of "self-esteem". Barf. Next time, we're taking our family circus to the Tempe dog park, with the happy hippy stoners and other friendly folk.