I finally took his Kizness over to the dogpark yesterday...mostly because I was too lazy and too cold to walk his furry butt around, and I figured this way other people's dogs could wear him out for me. I sort of forgot about the part where I'd be standing around doing nothing except slowly losing feeling in my toes, but Kiz had a good time. (And, I am happy to say, it is no longer too cold to snow in Virginia, as evidenced by the brief scattering of snow we had this morning, snow that promptly melted from fear as it hit the ground) Kizzy spent the forty-five minutes we were there happily chasing after the other dogs who were chasing a ball and racing a big golden lab named Marley up and down the fence. The people who were there were all dog people, sharing ball-throwing duties in between catching up with each other about dogs, family, friends, etc. They made me feel welcome, even helpfully pointing out when Kizzy was off in a corner pooping so I could go pick it up. We had such a good time that after church today we went back. This time there were only two people and three dogs, but, like yesterday, the dogs had a fabulous time chasing each other around while the people chatted. That is, we WERE having a fabulous time until I let it slip that I hadn't registered Kizzy yet. Faces grew long and disapproving. "You might want to do that," the man said unhelpfully, "sometimes they'll come down here and CHECK." "Yeah," the woman piped in, "And sometimes other people will go and tell the ranger."
Pause. Then me, mumbling, "oh, well, we were just going to...come for a few minutes anyway, we were gonna, go for a walk...he's got all his shots, you know, he goes to playcare and everything, uh. Well, I guess...KISMET! C'MERE!" And we left, opting instead to go for a stroll by the water.
Now that we've seen the awesomeness of the dogpark, I'm more determined than ever to get his seasonal pass. But my car needs an oil change this week, so it'll have to wait for a little while still.