Group Bark

I guess I'm not the most social dog around, which is a glaring attribute in a culture that seems more and more inclined to group-think and that seems to fear solitude as much as the day of reckoning. When I was about 6 months old, Ma and Pa started bringing me to my favorite store, Petco, for these things called "play time." These particular play times were exclusively for us toy breeds, so each play time was a circus of small exotic breeds prancing and wrestling as if the stuffed animal section of FAO Schwartz had suddenly come alive.

Our parents gathered around the cordon beaming with the confidence that their little dog was hands down the cutest of the pack. The thing about play time is it generally evolves into a cluster of small dogs nipping and pouncing on one another with a couple of us pattering about the periphery, appearing to be lost or searching for an escape. Pa had a hard time watching play time. I could hear him say things to Ma like, "Ahhhh, look at her, she wants out. Should I pull her out?" Ma would agree but, having the harder heart of the two, would push for me to stay in for a bit. Then they would ease back from the railing, just out of sight, hoping, I guess, that I would need them less and want to get involved with the group. I would do my best to put a smile on, but I just couldn't get comfortable in there. It just didn't make sense to me. I found it more enjoyable to rub noses on the side with Alvo, the little French Bulldog, just the two of us. During the first couple of play times, the supervisor, a trainer with the store, would look at me with a face that said, that's okay, she just needs to get comfortable with the group, then she'll join in and be on the right track. But after the third or fourth session, her face seemed to have shifted to one of disapproval. Her eyes were narrower when cast in my direction, and the last time I tried to jump at her thighs, so she would lift me up, she responded with a very flat and curt, "Down!" without even looking at me. She seemed not to know me anymore, though she seemed to adore me in her training class. In that moment, I wondered what I did wrong and felt a little confused. Pa just shrugged his shoulders as if to say, "Hang in there. It will be over soon." Later in the car, as we pulled onto Tchoupitoulas Street, heading home from that last session, Ma allayed my anxiety and cleared up my confusion. "Fancy, you're just like your Pa, aren't you?" Pa chuckled in his way and patted my head. "You are just like me. I hated groups and teams," he said. "Get in the game!" the coach would scream!" What an asshole," Pa said. "Put me in a group, Fancy, and the first thing I'll do is look for the nearest escape. Just remember, Fanc', the group's not the problem, but the fear of being alone. That's the real problem. That's what burns down villages and sends people to Siberia." I gave Pa and Ma two licks on their cheeks for being so understanding. Maybe Pa and I would play ball in the backyard later. "Alright commander Fancy," he said, "take us home!"