Get a dog, Ken, they'd all said. You'll love it. It will be great. Ha, thought Ken Kirby as he and his giant mutt jogged up the hill to the dog park. Fat chance. So far, having a dog pretty much sucked. He'd gotten the dog to stave off the loneliness a man often felt when he was 45 years old and still utterly single. His female friends at work - all married - had said that a dog would offer him companionship, unconditional love, and a reason to leave the house. They had failed to mention that the dog would be in his face 24/7 and that he would be forced to leave the house early in the morning and late at night, depending on the dog's whims. He'd named the dog Pal, because he thought that seemed like a good name for man's best friend, but the dog had been anything but a pal since he'd come home with him two weeks ago. He'd been a royal pain in the ass.
Today's excursion to the dog park was an attempt to achieve two outcomes: one, to get the dog to run off some of his excess energy so he'd stop leaping all over Ken's house, and two, to hopefully meet a couple of other dog owners who could talk Ken down from the ledge and convince him not to give away his new friend. As Pal took off at top speed and dragged Ken through the gate into the park, Ken was relieved to be able to let go of the leash. As Pal began running a wild lap around the perimeter of the yard, Ken stopped to catch his breath, plopping down on a bench and letting out a big sigh.