Wherein Bry does typically suburban things.

Today I went to the dog park with KT. We took her dog Duncan and Floyd. Floyd belongs to EP, KT's roommate. I don't know Floyd's breed, but he does remind me of my brother's old dog Fred, who is fondly remembered as a lunkhead. Nondescript, black, shaggy.

The dog park appears to be a necessary evil for suburban dog owners. It is also one of the reasons, among many, that I will probably never own a dog in the city.

The most appropriate outfit for a dog park is a combination of hip-waders, a rain jacket, and rubber gloves. I'm also pretty sure serial killers wear the same outfit to bury their prey. But they are well-chosen items, good for dealing with the mud and poop.

Aside from the obvious, who actually owns waders?, they are also the least attractive clothes a gal could wear to a place where hot guys are milling about ready to bond with you over chewed up tennis balls and clusters of wrestling mutts.

But the bonding can only occur if your dog does not spend the entire visit embarrassing you. By pooping every five seconds. By humping all the eligible lady dogs (and sometimes man dogs). By being much faster than a other dogs and always fetching the ball first (the ball that does not belong to your dog). And by being a little asshole and starting a secret fight club against the will of all the participants (the bully).

This is a lot to ask for from a dog. Now Duncan handles himself really well. He is very attractive for a dog and kind of a big baby. He always checks in to make sure he knows where to find KT. He doesn't start fights and is willing to play with even the ugliest of dogs. He keeps the pooping to a minimum and doesn't argue when it is time to leave.

Floyd, on the other hand, managed to poop five times in five minutes. He fetched every ball he could find, trying to stuff two tennis balls into his mouth at once. And then he rolled in a big mud puddle. KT spent much of the time chasing after him and cleaning up his messes.

It is sort of like going to the bar with your craziest friend. You think it is going to be a great time, but eventually you are hold her hair back while she pukes.

I pretended I did not know them. Instead, I drank my latte and scoped out the hot men. And their wedding rings.

Which is when I realized that every man there seemed way too attached to their dog.

A few years ago there was an MTV True Life I Love My Dog (or something like that). All of the profiled people were obsessed with their pets. There was a model who took her dog everywhere. And there was a total Jersey Shore guido type that bathed with his dog and kissed it on the mouth. He also made his girlfriend ride in the backseat while the dog rode shotgun.

Of all the MTV True Life episodes, this one stayed with me the most. Sometimes while checking out guys, I think "he looks like he bathes with his dog."

Dealbreakers: bathing with your dog, wedding rings, hip waders.