His name was Ringo. Woof.

Last week I was reminded of WHY I love living in DC: we occasionally get a random 75 degree day in the middle of winter. (Sorry, Michigan friends, it’s true. In some places there are NOT six full months of winter!)

Anyway, I’m a sucker for an unseasonably warm day, so Alan and hoofed it to the dog park to see if we could touch other people’s animals. Because I’m OCD and travel a lot I don’t actually have a dog, but I love them, so this is my happy compromise.

The dog park was packed with canines and owners alike purging their cabin fever (not to be confused with Bieber Fever – it wasn’t overtaken but screaming girls) so it was a perfect night for pooch watching.

This guy took the expression too literally.

My favorite dog of the evening was Ringo, a gorgeous – and assertive – border collie. He wasn’t my favorite because of his appearance, however. No, it was the fact that as soon as he arrived, we kept hearing his owner shout, “No, Ringo, no! Stop!”

And when we would find Ringo, there he would be, up on his back two legs humping the shit out of some other dog. No matter what the game was – tug on a rope, chase a ball – it ended with a solid humping.

So obviously dog sex is funny to start with just because it’s dog sex. It’s called doggie style for a reason, people.

But the thing that really made me laugh was the owner. Can you imagine? I’m sure that when he was at the pound looking at rescues, he was simply trying to determine if the dog was affectionate, a barker, aggressive…

It probably wasn’t until he got home and took Ringo for his maiden voyage that he realized he had adopted a predator. I imagine he feels like a documented sex offender when he takes Ringo for a walk past the dog park… The other dog owners all look nervously at each other and begin calling their dogs, eager to snap leashes on and exit.

We had a cat named Chuck when I was growing up. He was a big black tom cat, who we’d had neutered as a a kitten. They may have taken his balls, but they didn’t take his urge. He took a special shining to a soft pink afghan that my grandma knitted.

I was too young to understand what was going on, only enough to know that if I saw him “making muffins” on the afghan and shaking his butt, I should shout, “Mom! Chuck’s getting funny!” and spray him in the face with water until he stopped.

In retrospect: I’m sorry, Chuck. No wonder you hated me.

The next time I hit the dog park, if I see Ringo there, I might have to approach his owner and suggest he change his dog’s name slightly so he doesn’t give his dog a complex.

BINGO!

Tags: dog, dog park, funny, humping, nice weather, people-watching