Sit Back and Enjoy

No explanation necessary.  Just click and enjoy. Have a good weekend. 

When It's 109 degrees . . .

 . . . do you think to yourself, "I ought to move to Dallas?" (Granted, the heat makes you lightheaded and unfit for serious decision-making.)

Well, according to Erica (Joey and Coco), it might be a smart idea because Dallas is home to an enormous indoor dog park complex—the first of its kind. Here are some photos from the Web site of Unleashed Indoor Dog Parks. (To see more photos, look here. To see a few reviews from visitors, see here.) The facility—just minutes from downtown Dallas—boasts 2,500 square interior feet and 2.5 acres for outside play.

Wow, right? Apparently, the complex contains a very special and intense cleaning and deodorizing system that allows for hundreds of dogs to do their biz on material that looks like astroturf. The park also has a cafe, lounge, and a pet supply store, and there is day care and grooming services on-site. The cost for the park itself is $7.50 per dog per day, with unlimited number of visits per day. Dogs must be pre-registered, and owners must show that all vaccinations and flea/tick preventatives are up-to-date. Interestingly, no pit bulls are allowed. 

The whole thing looks amazing. It seems so Dallas, too. "Darlin', it's just too hot to walk them dawgs. Why, oh why, cain't somebody invent a state-of-the-art, indoor, air-conditioned dog park?"  Whereas Austinites are all about the sweat. That's why they jog along Lamar Boulevard at lunch hour in August and race in bright spandex pants down Bull Creek (Le Tour de Bull Creek) on their way to work at the University or the State. Austinites say, "Why hold outdoor music and food festivals during the cool autumn or winter months. Let's gather with 5,000 of our closest friends and sweat! It's organic!"

I love A/C as much as anybody, but I gotta say that the photos of all those people and dogs inside the indoor dog park building make me feel a little claustrophobic. At least we've got 80-some acres to sweat in at our Dog Park. So we'll continue to brave Dog Park in the triple digit heat because like all things Texan, it's not easy; it's the cowboy way. Yee haw, everybody. Stay cool.

-z

Roma Speaks: Meet Some Dogs

What? You want me to do what now?? You're kidding. Why can't you do it? Fine. Okay. I said fine. 

Since Herself seems disinclined to write today's blog, I, Roma-dog, will do it. 

Meet these guys. The tough one is Bandit. She's all right. I respect her. She doesn't take any guff. Now, it's kind  of a mixed message when the guy puts the water down in front of me and then she tries to bite my head off, but I get it. It's a turf thing. I'll just go over here to this other water bowl. Fine by me. Okey-dokey.

The other two don't bother me. They're okay by me. They mop the place up with that Muzzy character. Muzzy. What's the deal? Everybody's got to grab that kid by the ears and talk in swoopy voices. "Oh, Muzzy, you're sooo cyooote." I was never cute. Cute is kids' stuff. I had a litter of puppies and was shipped off to the shelter before I was year old. But I was patient. I didn't bark or whine or do any of that stupid doggie stuff at the shelter. I waited until the right mark walked in the door and then I bagged her. I wanted one I could push around, give the cold paw to, and get away with murder. And I did, too, for a while. Then came the training and commands. Pheh. So we compromised. I do what Herself says—most of the time. Now I pretend I can't hear her. After twelve years, can you blame me? I have heard it all, sister. Believe me. It's enough to make a grown dog cry.

The gig hasn't been so bad. Herself is all right most of the time. And the kid has learned to stay out of my face, too. There's plenty of food and walks. I bag a lot of treats on those walks, too, let me tell you. The "sad eyes" bit slays them every time. "She looks so worried." Heh, heh. Suckers. And I've traveled. I've played in snow, splashed in the ocean, and hiked the Appalachian Trail. I've lived in two time zones, eaten rat poison, and been sprayed by a skunk and lived to tell about it. No big deal.  

All right, already. Enough. Where's my cookie?

-z

Photo of Bailey, Maggie, and Bandit courtesy of Scott.

Photo of Roma courtesy of Herself