I had been planning on taking my Dobie boy to one of our company sponsored softball games for several months.  I bought a special “Play Ball!” collar.  I had it embroidered with a baseball as well.  I put that on him with his stainless steel star ID tag.  And because he’s 9 years old, I have to load a ramp to the side of the truck so he can walk up easily instead of jumping.  The guys told me dogs were allowed at the ball park, so Thursday night we loaded up the truck, drove on down, and together, had a lovely walk to the park.

When we got there, the walk was long to the location of our game, but along the way, people stopped to compliment my guy and to pet him.  When I got to our game, two men stopped and squatted to talk to my boy.  His tail stub was wagging a mile a minute.  He loves attention and people, which is not something I can say about me.

Then came the a-hole.  The park ranger with an ego.  He not only gave me grief about having my boy in the park, but he actually drove along side me – crept along – as I took the long walk back to the truck with him.  I asked him where the sign was, and after a little more walking, I finally find that sign sandwiched between two others.

“Trained Service Animals Only.”  I guess the guys I work with didn’t notice that before.  However, they didn’t notice the nifty collar on my boy either.

Maybe beer had something to do with that and the semi-lousy way they played.  But they had fun.  I guess that’s what counts.  They are letting off steam.  It seems to be the thing to do these days.

Back to dogs.  After I left, I was told, one of the girlfriends of a player carried in her dog, and macho park ranger made her and her dog leave as well.

What the hell?  Dogs are Americans too.  And moreso, they belong to tax paying Americans.  I am so pissed off that I can’t even walk my dog onto a city park to watch a ball game after all the taxes I’ve paid into this place, it’s pathetic.  There are very few options for people who love their dogs anymore.  And I want to know what the hell happened to “land of the free.”  It sure isn’t anywhere where my dog and I are standing.  I vented when I got to the parking lot, and screamed a few profanities.  Maybe it’s not the mature thing to do, but I am tired of being “nice” and following somebody else’s lame rules.

This was my first and last time to this Nazi park.

That aside, the night itself seemed to just be less than stellar.  The company team was playing a team of standbys who play all week and are not members of any teams.  They rocked.  They could catch and hit and probably wouldn’t have combusted if you lit a match by them.  Their team was from a mortuary, and I did not see Herman Munster there.  However, the mortuary team beat the company team so bad you’d think he was around somewhere.  There was something called a mercy ending.  At 21 to 1, the game was called.  I think it took two innings, maybe three.

Even taking photos was not so much fun because all I was doing was thinking about my guy in the truck waiting for me.  And on the way home, I got lost in a very unsafe area.  I had to turn around and back track finally to get my bearings.  I passed a hooker on the right side of the street as I got lost.  She smiled the first pass by, and by the time I got going the other way to get un-lost, she had changed to the that side of the street and waved at me.  Such friendliness.  Yeah, right.  She wanted what my dog and I got at the Nazi park.  But we weren’t asking for it like she was.

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