OHMIDOG! : Ahhh, spring: A day at the park

Days like yesterday (and let’s hope that kind of weather holds out for today’s*March for the Animals) are meant to be enjoyed, so we got up early and headed to Baltimore’s Riverside*Park with Ace and Eli (a visiting dog) to soak up some sun, take care of business, and pitch in with a park clean-up that was getting underway.
We filled a couple of trash bags with the shrapnel of urban life — discarded socks, potato chip wrappers, tiny zip lock drug baggies, condom wrappers, cigarette butts, beer cans, diapers and*more.
Among the handfuls of debris I was picking up — some mysterious, some identifiable — was this, a fortune cookie fortune, which said:

How cool would it be, I thought to myself, to get two more dogs, and name them “Excitement” and “Intrigue?” Then they could follow me wherever I went. (I didn’t play the lucky numbers, but feel free to try them if you like.)
Returning to the task at hand — bending over, picking up, bagging — I noticed I was having a hard time keeping my pants up (a common ailment among men as they get older and fatter). So I took Ace’s leash, put it through my pants loops and used it for the belt I forgot to put on that morning (forgetting being another common ailment among old fat men). Cinching it tight, I continued with trash patrol.**
Our bags nearly full,*we stopped and visited with the bench-painting detail, where Ace supervised as a fresh coat of park green was applied.
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After that, we made a loop around the park, stopping to talk to Athena, a mastiff friend. As we chatted, Ace, tired from all the work, decided to lay down. He was about ten inches from feet — and still unleashed — when what to my wondering eyes should appear but:

The officer rolled to a stop. “Better get that dog on a leash,” he said. “There’s a $1,000 fine.”
I immediately complied, figuring the penalty for losing my pants wouldn’t be nearly that much. And while I’m thankful for not getting a citation, I couldn’t help but wonder a bit about our city’s priorities. It’s not so much that I was fingered while exhibiting — like many other dog owners involved in the cleanup — some civic responsibility.*It’s just that, based on what was in my bag, the park, like the city, has bigger problems than an unleashed dog laying 10 inches from his guardian’s feet.
In a park where drug dealers regularly conduct their business, and hookers turn tricks in the porta-pots, having police crack down on unleashed dogs*seems almost comedic.
As we completed our loop around the park, I noticed the officer had made a loop as well, and — unless I was being paranoid — seemed to be*keeping an eye on me.
I was being followed, alright. But it was by*neither excitement nor intrigue. It was the Baltimore Police Department.


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