On The Run?? - 12/10/08 (Part 2)

So me, the dawg and my new fancy $10 Target watch headed out for our run. I decided we would hit one of my favorite canyon trails at Balboa Park as it is off the beaten path a little and I could let the dawg off the leash.

Technically, you are required to leash your dawg in all areas of the park with the exception of the off-leash dawg park. The truth is, most dawg owners let their canine pals roam free on the canyon trails and the Park Rangers sort of take the "so long as no one complains and you don't flaunt it" approach.

As we hit the far end of the trail and were doubling back, I was totally engrossed in the NPR program I had downloaded to the Ipod and didn't notice the Park Ranger truck coming around the bend. I quickly leashed the hound but it was too late.

The ranger motioned me over to her driver's door and with a big smile said "I am supposed to tell you to leash your dog".

"No problem", I replied. And off we went.

I was only half-way through my run and I didn't want to chance unleashing the dawg only to run into the same Park Ranger again so I figured I better keep the dawg tethered for the rest of the run. "I know, I will take him to the Dawg Park for a few minutes and let him get a good romp in with some other dawgs", I thought to myself. So instead of ending my run at the car - I headed to the dawg park.

As we crossed the Park's main thoroughfare near the Dawg Park, I noticed a small (25 lbs or so) black dawg running free. "Oh no", I thought, "Someone's dawg has escaped from the Dawg Park".

I glanced over at the off-leash area and none of the 6 or 7 people there looked like they had lost a dawg.

I looked back at the stray and saw that it was trotting down the sidewalk across the bridge at a pretty good pace (faster than I could run). I also noticed that whenever someone would reach out a hand to it, the stray would shy away.

I made a Social Responsibility Calculation (SRC).

Stray dawg running faster than me + already has a good head start + will probably run from me if I approach + no distressed owner in sight = An unfortunate event that I can do nothing about.

So Buckley and I turned to head for the leash-free area. That's when I saw the Fancy Leash Lady (FLL) running from the Dawg Park. She was dressed casually well. You know, fancy jeans that are made for shopping for more jeans - nice shoes - diamonds. And an empty leash in one hand.

Uh oh.

"Did you see a black dawg up there?", she shouted to me.

My SRC changed:

Stray dawg running faster than me + already has a good head start + will probably run from me if I approach + no distressed owner in sight = An unfortunate event that I can do nothing about + appearance of apparent owner = I will have to at least try and help

I pointed down the road where the dog was disappearing into the distance.

As it turns out, the dawg was not her's after all. Her dawg was safely fenced in at the Dawg Park where she left it to go chasing after the stray hoping to catch it with her dawg's leash.

SRC:

Stray dawg running faster than me + already has a good head start + will probably run from me if I approach + no distressed owner in sight = An unfortunate event that I can do nothing about + appearance of apparent owner = I will have to at least try and help + FLL is not owner but good Samaritan = An unfortunate event that we can do nothing about

"What do you think we should do?" she asked, concern spreading across her face. "If we don't do something it might be hit by a car."

Oh boy.

SRC:

Stray dawg running faster than me + already has a good head start + will probably run from me if I approach + no distressed owner in sight = An unfortunate event that I can do nothing about + appearance of apparent owner = I will have to at least try and help + stranger is not owner but good Samaritan = An unfortunate event that we can do nothing about + FLL does not understand how impossible task is = I will have to make an effort, futile though it may be, otherwise I will look like a calloused heel

There we stood, her in her fancy jeans and diamonds and me in a t-shirt, shorts, running shoes, Ipod and fancy $10 Target watch with my big strapping hound by my side. It was clear which one of us was going to go hoofing it after the stray.

"I supposed I could run down there and try to catch it . . "

"Take my leash", she replied.

SRC:

Stray dawg running faster than me + already has a good head start + will probably run from me if I approach + no distressed owner in sight = An unfortunate event that I can do nothing about + appearance of apparent owner = I will have to at least try and help + stranger is not owner but good Samaritan = An unfortunate event that we can do nothing about + FLL does not understand how impossible task is = I will have to make an effort, futile though it may be otherwise I will look like a calloused heel + I have already done my one minute of running today = not only is this likely to be utterly futile, but I will probably injure myself in the process to boot

So I started lumbering down the street . . .

Fortunately, the stray had doubled back and was standing just out of reach of a gaggle of Jogger Moms (JM) all standing by their BOB strollers. One JM was reaching out to the stray in an attempt to coax it in close enough where she could grab it . . . instead, the stray bolted across the street and into a wooded area of the park.

"Is that your dawg?" the JM shouted as I approached with an empty leash in my hand.

"No, but I thought I would try and catch it . . ."

"Here, take my sandwich . .", she said as she held out a half-eaten PB&J, "maybe you can lure him with it."

"Okay, thanks", I replied.

I crossed the street, stranger's half-eaten sandwich in hand and headed into the trees - not a dawg in sight. There were a number of homeless people sleeping amongst the bushes and for a moment I considered that the dawg may belong to one of them.

No such luck - not a sign of the stray. As I stood there in the stray-dawg-free expanse of bushes and trees my mind turned to how huge Balboa Park really is. It's almost twice the size of New York's Central Park . . .

By this time, my own dawg was going out of his gourd. Here we were, running through trees and bushes and me with a half-eaten PB&J in the other hand (PB is one of his all-time favorites).

"This is crazy", I muttered to myself. Looking over my shoulder to make sure I was not in sight of the JM, I tossed the half-eaten sandwich to Buckley who swallowed it whole.

There it is!

I had spotted the stray about 100 feet away - near the Lawn Bowling greens. It darted through the bushes and across the street once more.

Trudge. trudge. trudge.

As luck would have it, the stray headed straight for the dawg park and stood outside the gate.

SRC:

Stray dawg running faster than me + already has a good head start + will probably run from me if I approach + no distressed owner in sight = An unfortunate event that I can do nothing about + appearance of apparant owner = I will have to at least try and help + stranger is not owner but good samaritan = An unfortunate event that we can do nothing about + FLL does not understand how impossible task is = I will have to make an effort, futile though it may be otherwise I will look like a calloused heel + I have already done my one minute of running today = not only is this likely to be utterly futile, but i will probably injure myself in the process to boot + All FLL has to do is open the gate to the dawg park and the stray will be fenced in = balance of responsibility has shifted to FLL

As FLL moved to open the gate, the stray darted once more, into some bushes and across the street again . . .

SRC:

We are done here

"How did you get the dawg to come back to the Dawg Park?", FLL asked.

"I didn't. All I did was chase it through the bushes and it came back here on it's own. Since it has come by here twice already, no doubt it will come by here again."

And thus, having made an utterly futile attempt, I achieved social acceptance.

Which leads me back to my conclusion from yesterday:

"How long do I have to run in circles through the bushes with a stranger's half-eaten sandwich to be deemed socially acceptable?"

Answer: About 7 minutes, 54 seconds.

PS

Buckley romped with other dawgs for about ten minutes at the Dawg Park and then we packed it up.

I never did see the stray again . . .