Just Kidding, But Seriously...

The Canine King and His Goldfish Cracker

I turned to the door just as Mel called, "Derek, wait!" My hands grasped the doorknob because Derek was not going to wait any longer-he had a crush to "coincidentally" ambush at the dog park and he was wasting precious time.

But just as I was about to turn the knob, I peered out the oval glass window on the wooden door and witnessed a large black truck with monstrous wheels pull up into the driveway, its polished rims blinding me as the Sun struck them from overhead.

I recognized the vehicle instantly. I had always joked to Mel that boys who had small wieners liked big cars to make up for what they didn't have, which meant that her boyfriend's man parts were pretty much nonexistent.

"Oh, Robby's here!" I announced with feigned horror, turning around to look at Mel. My eyes caught a flash of something yellow on the floor.

"What?" Mel squeaked, and, unlike me, the horror in her voice was actually real. "You're joking-"

"Double oh!" I gasped dramatically, eyeing the shiny splotch of yellow layered over the white tile of the floor with mild interest. "Tinkerbell peed on the floor."

Mel eyed Tinkerbell's deposited waste with exasperation. "Ugh, you've got to be kidding me-"

The doorbell rang. Mel cursed. "I look like a total hobo! How could he just show up like that? Derek, whatever you do, don't open the door-!"

"Too late," I told her, sidestepping the pool of piss and opening the front door to Robby's broad form. I met his eyes, which were blanketed beneath the shady shadow of his stupid baseball cap. He smelled purely of those cheap male colognes you bought for half off at Kmart. "You might want to watch your step as you come inside," I advised lowly. "Mel forgot where the bathroom was again."

Then I was gone before I could see that whole episode go down. As much as I wanted to take the opportunity to watch Mel get humiliated in front of her boyfriend, I had a place to be. The dog park was only a few minutes away.

***

"If I could, I would totally high-five you right now," I told Tinkerbell, who was trotting alongside me; the tag dangling from his collar jingled along with his tiny steps. "That peeing on the floor bit was brilliant. I'm giving you extra treats when we get back."

Disregarding the fact that Tinkerbell deemed it absolutely necessary to stop at every single lamppost and patch of grass in order to lift his leg and pee (there came a point where he would lift his leg and nothing would come out), we managed to make pretty good time in our trip to the local dog park.

The place was pretty busy, crawling with dogs of all different colors and sizes-as well as their owners, who could be spotted sitting on benches or walking around the provided sidewalk, relaxing after a long day at work or school. I hadn't ever been here personally, but I knew it well enough to know that it was officially known as "The Bark Park," and that it was divided into two distinct sections: a separate area for big dogs, and a separate area for small dogs. A fence kept the two sections apart.

I approached the entrance, heading straight for the small dogs area, specified by a sign that read: For dogs under thirty-five pounds.

I glanced over the chain-link fence at the dogs in the opposite section, spotting every monstrous breed that spanned from Labradors, to Great Danes, to German Shepherds. If Tinkerbell, with his weight at a measly 3 pounds and length at meager twelve inches, went in there, he'd be treated like a chew toy.

And Peaches, Gwen's Terrier, wasn't much bigger either- which meant that she had to be in the small dog area.

I pushed the gate open, my stomach twisting in knots. I hadn't told Raymond or Luke about this in school today, because for once I wanted to see if I could handle something like this without having to follow their advice. It was sort of like riding a bike without training wheels or jumping into a pool without floaties. Hopefully I wouldn't lose my balance and fall to the ground, or get pulled under by the water and, you know, drown.