The Writer’s Studio, Level I - Assignment #9 May 5, 2008
Preamble: 3rd person narrator, description of a group I am familiar with. Narrative compassion showing love, sympathy and knowledge. Patient in describing the action (missed that one). Show that group in an activity.
Dog Park
The last had finally trickled in making their daily descension complete, giving life to that small square of green in the middle of their city. What was silent just minutes ago became an excited buzz punctuated by an occasional bark or two. Leashes would unsnap and wrap around hands as the little ones took flight. Soon there would be balls flying all over the place and sticks thrown. Pinecones were partial substitutes when all the balls at home were hidden or destroyed.
Sometimes they were as eager to see each other as their cherished ones were. But most times it was more dutiful. A little chat here with one group then a quick hello with another. Even united with a common purpose their familiarities or distrust would faction them. Conversations would fly, “Did you hear what happened to the Standard Poodle?”, “Skipper’s mom is in chemo.”, “Sousie just had surgery on her tail.” They never knew each other’s names. They just knew enough to pass the time while their dogs tired themselves out for the evening, their winding down from work complete.
Of course the dogs were happy to see each other too. This park was for them after all. Seeing their favorite friends they would run from a distance. But only after a serious winding up tail wag while coiling into a crouch. They had their own groups too. The faster running dogs chasing each other with lightning speed. Some, just plain old friends, simply enjoyed being around each other.
Conversations would pause only to encourage their kids to keep playing. And to run. Run fast and hard. To fit in a day’s worth of play into 20 tight minutes. So they would feel less guilty about leaving them alone all day. In the middle of a city. With only a patch of green in the middle.
It was an Autumn evening. The year didn’t matter. But it was different tonite. Birthday cake looked good enough to eat. It was Laika’s day today. And she was happy.
