French Fries at the Dog Park

Yesterday I took my dog to the park a few blocks from our house. It was a beautiful Northern California fall day, sunny but with a cool breeze, enough trees changing color to feel autumnal but warm enough to require no jacket. Gently invigorating. 

Dash and I wander around the spacious grassy areas surrounding the tennis courts and little league field until he insistently drags me to the part of the park with the fenced in dog park. He eagerly noses up against the fence, whining with longing when three dogs run up and rub snouts with him from inside the enclosure. I rarely take Dash into the dog park because he is a hefty white lab who lives up to his name by dashing at people’s knees and has caused more than one knee injury. My husband forgave him, but Dash did hobble him for a couple of weeks. I live in fear of Dash taking out a senior citizen’s reconstructed knee so we never go in the dog park if there are old people there.

Dash strains at his leash and looks up at me, brown eyes pleading. I look in, there are two adults, a woman in her mid thirties, and an old man sitting on a bench. A bench is good. Dash can do less damage to someone on a bench. I decide to give it a shot and as we enter I yell out a cheerful “watch your knees!” to the woman. She is tall and strong and laughs as she agrees to watch out. I follow up with, “he’s friendly, he just runs too hard at people.”

She gives Dash some pats, then he takes off playing with her two German shepherds and the older man’s dog, a small white ball of fluff. Very quickly Dash loses interest in the dogs and goes sniffing around the old man. “Off,” I say, forcefully pulling Dash away, noticing as I do so that the man is eating from a McDonald’s bag. I throw a ball for Dash which he halfheartedly chases before going back to the man, again and again. As do the other dogs, though not as assertively as Dash. I don’t blame them. The French fries smell divine. I’m a heartbeat away from begging for some myself. It is dinner time, after all.

I apologize to the man every time I pull Dash away.

The man is nice about it, every time, “It’s alright.”

But Dash won’t leave him alone so I snap the leash back on and say goodbye. We leave the dog park and as we are walking away I give in to a torrent of self righteousness. Who brings McDonald’s to the dog park? Of course the dogs are going to go crazy wanting some! That guy is lucky the dogs didn’t rip the bag right out of his hands. Or worse.

As we head down the sidewalk that starts the big loop part of our walk my brain won’t let it go. Why would that man bring a bag of McDonald’s food to the dog park at dinner time?

Four blocks later it hits me.

Maybe he was lonely.

I think back to his face and his repeated assurance that the dogs weren’t bothering him. How he carefully kept the food in the bag, pulling out one nugget or French fry at a time to eat it. How he kept starting new topics of conversation with the other woman there. I think about the stillness in his face, his searching eyes.

Most definitely he was lonely.

I’ve had my seasons of loneliness. I have family members and friends who have as well. I think about the aching quiet of dinner after dinner alone. And I wish I had thought to take my food to a dog park and get a little human (or dog) interaction. It would have helped. I found myself feeling happy for him that he did that. And embarrassed it took me so long to figure it out.  Dash and I spin around and go back to chat with him, but he’s gone.

On the rest of our walk I think about the face of loneliness. How hidden it can be. I wonder how many times my quick judgement of people has made me miss the real truth behind their odd or bad behavior. What if they are struggling, if they are lonely or sad or discouraged with life? What if the behavior I’m so judgmental of is a way of reaching out, however imperfectly offered?

I’m reminded of Dr. Becky’s (author of Good Inside: A Guide to Becoming the Parent You Want to Be) idea about MGI – the Most Generous Interpretation of a situation. It is so easy to get angry or defensive when people don’t behave the way we think they should, but looking beyond the behavior to their emotions and their motivations can help us shift our thinking. Give the space for a little grace.

The Most Generous Interpretation of bringing food to the dog park is that a lonely man was hungry, hungry for company as he ate his dinner. He was brave enough to seek it out, and thanks to the woman who stayed (not me), I’d like to believe he found it.

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