Beauty and the Beast

The dog park is a great equalizer. I know that now. I have a dog that I take to a park everyday. I’d say he’s a rather cute looking Goldador who manages to turn heads wherever we go. I won’t be lying when I say I treat him like arm candy, every time I step out.

Ravishing blondes and gorgeous men routinely stop to pet my dog. But he’s not always that lucky in the park. In the dog world, the fattest Corgi could charm the sexiest poodle. The laziest retriever could interest a dominating pug. The noisiest Yorkie could chat up a sober Shiba. The rules are a bit uncanny. So, my dog despite his adorable looks and athletic wit, is sometimes left bouncing in the periphery of a canine carnival.

Sometimes through my dog, I encounter emotions I’d never understand as a human. I’m sure, I’m not the only one. Like that other day when a beautiful young man was trying to socialize his dog at the park. He knew how to chat everyone up. His dog, not so much. It was a beefy Pit-bull. Deep brown eyes, broad shoulders and all—but then I have a soft spot for Pit-bulls. I wasn’t sure how others in the park felt. They kept their pooches at a wary distance.

The man in any social scenario would’ve been the center of everyone’s gaze. But here he was circling the group of dogs…umm…like a creep. May be his dog was too strange for the other fellows. Dare I say a little on the ugly side? Though relentless in his pursuit, his pit-bull faced constant rejection.

The man was clearly new to the experience of being left out. Good looking men with the gift of gab are rarely so awkward. He had no rehearsed lines to wiggle out of the situation. All he could do, was stand in the corner, pretending it didn’t hurt at all.