I used to go to the Brentwood dog park every day. I tried different times, looking for a pleasant community of like-minded dog lovers to pass the time with as my puppy played. What I found were packs in place, not of dogs, but of humans, with rigid hierarchies and exclusive membership requirements.
7:30 am. The Doyenne directs the conversation as she walks slowly round the park. She speaks in the rounded tones of Edith Skinner trained movie stars. The Enforcer follows the Doyenne, making sure other lesser human keep their dogs in line. The Doyenne's standard poodle may misbehave, may rub his aging, rheumy eyes on your jeans to clear the mucus, may break up a happy game between two young dogs and try to hump them. He receives a gentle chiding, but, lese majeste, is allowed to continue, an alpha male owned by the alpha female of the hour. Others' transgressions are not treated so lightly. The Enforcer is an expert on all dogs and dire pronouncements are directed at those whose canine or whose conversation upsets the placid contentment of the pack.
10:00 The dog walker people show with their packs. They are younger and more aggressive in their knowledge of dominance. Anyone who wants to join must perform the appropriate submissive or dominant behavior. If you are foolish enough to imagine yourself the equal of the giants, then you had better know the secret handshakes and codes of conduct. If you enter the group mildly, careful not to offend anyone, you had better be willing to keep your place. Once you've been assigned non-status, only a bloody battle against the pack will change it. And no one exercising their dog wants to do battle. Instead, you change the time of your trip, or go off on your own. The lone wolf.
Some never notice the packs that form around them. They don't really try to engage, are not so much above the fray as oblivious to it. Sometimes the dog will play with others and sometimes the dog simply sniffs the perimeter and lays down. They say humans come to resemble their dogs, but the reverse is also true.
Although I'm a fan of dog parks, I don't go there much any more. My dog is always unsettled when we arrive. Blanche, who loves to go to all the other parks, stands outside the fence with her hackles raised and barks fiercely. Inside, she will bark a bit, but if another dog approaches, she tucks her tail and runs away cringing.
I used to think that it was memory causing her to act so strangely. This was her first dog park, and she was petrified in the beginning. Even after she started going to other parks and entering them confidently and joyfully, she continued to approach this one with trepidation. Only this minute, as I think about all the times I have met with inappropriate dominant behavior from the other humans ,there do I wonder if it is the park and neither Blanche nor me. The vibe is protective, aggressive and negative.
My dog has been picking up on it for a year. Only now, after my visits there have dwindled to an occasional pass that most often includes some self-annointed 'authority' telling me something unpleasant about my dog's behavior, my manner of treating her, or the dire future in store for her based on signals they interpret, do I see that Blanche may have been reacting appropriately all along. That the park is possessed of a darkness despite the play of dogs. How sad.
