He almost knocks me over as he hurtles out of the car, headed to the green field to meet his friends.

“Wait, wait” I call out, relieved no cars are exiting the parking lot into our path. When will he learn? At the metal fence he waits impatiently as I attempt to quickly lift the gate handle.

With the dry creak of the turning hinge, I instinctively pivot aside as he swooshes past, racing ahead to join a familiar group already at play. I watch from afar, making sure they are all getting along while patrolling for both additional playmates and sizing up newcomers on the crowded field.

The fresh evening air is invigorating. My shoulders relax as I take in a deep breath, what feels like the first after a rushed day. A day of minding me and dutifully playing quietly is rewarded in watching his joyful play.

Parental guilt be damned.

I am reminded of the importance of socialization in their development. He and his buddies scamper about, toggling between racing around and tussling with periods to stop and sniff each other’s nether regions.

They are dogs after all.

At least five times a week we make this pilgrimage to the park together before dusk. The dogs run off together in the enclosed field while their owners mill around chatting about, you guessed it, them. Tips on how to curb chewing or compliments over a glossy coat are interrupted with calls to “Stop that! Stop that right now!” or “Leave it! Don’t pick that up! Leave it!”

I enjoy hearing others remark about how well-behaved and handsome Duke is. Apparently he’s growing out of his slobber-inducing, overly gregarious play after all.

He avoids the more aggressive dogs, but if confronted either backs off or takes bossy yapping in stride. The easy-going one. Not unlike my two-year old daughter… who has half the playdates of the dog!

And with that jarring observation, all mother guilt is once again reclaimed.

By Maija Threlkeld

Labels: Maija Threlkeld

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