last time we took pablo to the park, he spotted another dog. it went a little something like this:
oh, hi. would you look at that? another bichon.
oh wait, he's coming closer.
mama, he's coming CLOSER.
needless to say, we left.
this weekend, it was in the high sixties and sunny in our little corner of north carolina. so we tried again.
we left early and excited, with the promise of a day spent by the water, under the shade trees.
but every other dog owner in the surrounding 99 counties must have had the same idea, and there were dogs, huge dogs, everywhere.
this time, pablo didn't even make it to the ground, content to stay in my arms.
and not until we found a greenway where there were more walkers and bike riders than canines, did he his little heart still.
so maybe i have a sissy dog.
maybe he was in an abusive home for five years where he was picked on as the runt, until one evening in november we rescued him.
maybe he's more comfortable lounging on a microfiber sofa eating treats and receiving excellent belly rubs than running in the dog park.
maybe (absolutely) he needs to be properly trained by cesar millan.
maybe i shouldn't have gently pushed him down the slide at that elementary school playground we passed.
but an extra half hour with my baby in my arms? if it's all right by him, it's all right by me.