The park is located in a large and beautiful recreation area filled with baseball diamonds and soccer fields. I race from one side of the fenced park to the other, watching as dog packs form and separate around me, the dogs leaping and barking as they play.
I don’t engage with any pack, choosing instead to stay on the side, low-key, not revealing myself in any way.
A big friendly retriever brings a length of rope in his teeth, trying to get me to grab it and play tug-of-war with him.
I sniff at the rope, then I take it in my teeth. I taste the saliva of the many dogs who have fought over this toy earlier in the day. I shake my head back and forth, enjoying the sound of the rope whistling in the wind. After a few shakes I get bored and drop it on the ground.
“Not really my thing,” I say.
The retriever is confused. He grabs the rope and runs off to find a dog he can play with.
A woman appears in front of me, looking to my collar for a name.
“Who do you belong to?” she says in a singsong voice like she’s talking to a child.
I ignore her, turn away, and break into a trot, speeding up as I move through the dog park, passing animals playing and play-fighting, some on leashes and some off, but all of them with owners waiting.
I run toward the fence that encloses the dog park, gaining speed as I go. I leap high, easily clearing the top of the fence.
“One got out!” a man shouts, trying to find my owner.
He shouts for me to stop, but I don’t listen. I race across the park, through the baseball field and farther still, leaving the dogs behind as I sprint into the tree line.
I continue until I no longer hear humans or dogs, until the only sound is the slap of my paws against the ground, the breath in my lungs, and my heart pounding in my chest as I run free.