Dog Days

Make your pups happy—take them to a dog park

I have dogs. Two wily bas set hounds to be exact. Before said dogs entered our lives, I had no idea how life-defining that seemingly benign statement would be: I have dogs. But those two flop-eared, squat-legged, slobbery bundles of chaos have come to shape our daily lives, and for the better—mostly.

Flash is 2, handsome, loving and dumb as a stump. He loves cuddling, food, and chewing on his own ears. He is inexplicably terrified of brooms and melons. Sophie is 7, equally affectionate, and marginally more intelligent (as determined by the facts that she can catch things that are thrown at her and that she knows a trick). We adopted Sophie from ABC Basset Rescue when we tried to be a foster home for dogs lost in the limbo between surrender by the previous owner and placement into a new home. Two days into her supposedly temporary stay, we had decided to keep her—a “foster failure,” as they call it in the dog-rescue industry.

Before said dogs entered our lives, I listened to many a radiant dog owner, tousling the fur of their well-mannered canine friend, beam about how a dog’s love is pure and unconditional. Well, they must never have gotten the stink eye from a disgruntled basset hound. If they had, they would undoubtedly know that a dog’s love—at least our dogs’ love—is completely conditional.

In defense of our dynamic basset duo, the conditions are not all that demanding. But they are unyielding. I’m sure if they had thumbs the dogs would have drafted up a contract for our arrangement, and I’m equally sure that the contract would read something like this:

1. You will feed us, preferably whenever we look pathetic. If you do not feed us, we will be forced to scavenge the house for nourishment, and we will draw that nourishment from whatever irreplaceable items we can find, or from the garbage, which we will spread willy-nilly throughout your living quarters.

2. You will touch us whenever we look happy or sad or lonely or excited or scared or mischievous or asleep. If you touch us, we will love you forever (or until we get hungry again, whichever comes first), and we will return your affections 20-fold. If you do not touch us, we will die inside.

3. You will take us to the dog park. If we are good, you will take us to the dog park because we deserve it. If we are bad, you will take us to the dog park because we need a constructive way to release our pent-up energies. If it is rainy, you will take us to the dog park to roll in the mud. And if it is the perfect summer day, washed white with sun, with the soft smell of honeysuckle in the breeze—then we will go to the dog park because we know on a day like that, when we tumble across the field to you, we will all be happy.

They don’t have thumbs, so we never officially signed a contract, but we may as well have. They have made good on all their promises. We feed them, we pet them; they love us with chaotic abandon. And on a perfect summer day in our quiet lives, the dog park is one of the most blissful places to be.

Now, our dog park is not just any dog park. There are plenty of places to bring the pups on a sunny day. A walk through Washington Park or the Corning Preserve makes for a lovely afternoon. Albany has a handful of fenced municipal dog parks where you can loose the puppies from their leashes and let them frolic to their content. But our dog park is truly a treasure.

Just off Delaware Avenue, at the edge of Albany, Mill Road winds down a hill to the Normanskill Farm. As soon as we swing left at the top of that hill, the dogs lapse into what we like to call “stupid face.” It is a panting, tongue-flapping, wildly rapturous face, with crazy vacant eyes. And it means dog park is coming.

At the base of the hill, a wide trail leads along the curve of the Normanskill, past the tumbling stone foundation of the farm’s deserted ice house. The bank of the river slopes to a sandy beach—perfect for water-loving pups. Many of the farm’s century-old buildings, including large barns and a blacksmith shop, are still functioning, and provide curious wonders for dog noses and humans alike. Beyond them, rolling hills, beekeepers’ boxes, grazing police horses, and an expansive community garden make it hard to believe the farm is within the city limits.

And after an easy, scenic walk, a large fenced dog park gives the pups an off-leash sanctuary for fetching, chasing, sniffing, wrestling, bounding, or just lounging in the afternoon sun. It’s a good adventure, and it’s good exercise—for the body, for the spirit, for the dogs and the people. And if you’re anything like me, standing in the sunshine, watching your dogs tumble over themselves, or rush to the gate meet new companions, will be a simple summer pleasure that warms you to the core. Plus, there’s nothing like a post-park summer nap with a pair of exhausted, happy pups.

—Kathryn Lange

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