Charlie and I go to the Glacier Ridge dog park on a daily basis. It's located in a part and an enclosed area. The back part has woods and the front is an open area. Ususally, especially around noon and on the week-ends the place is jam packed with our canine friends.
When we get to a quarter mile from the place Charlie sticks his head out the window in anticipation of good 'ol rump sniffing and humping. Not to worry. He's been neutered but I'm beginning to wonder if I shouldn't change his name to Charlene.
Lately, though, as BB King would say, the thrill is gone. Oh, driving from the lot to the entrance is a deal for him. He has three special unrinating spots. What a memory.
Today there were at least fifteen pooches in attendance but he seemingly ignored them all. After five minutes he settled in under my bench then when I asked if he wanted to go home he jumped up and ran to the gate.
I'm not sure what to come up with next. He literally hates the carnival and high school football games are out of the question especially since one of the local schools got rid of their dog mascot.
I guess the only thing left to do is buy him a pony.
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