I look out of my window at 8:30 a.m. and the dogs are poised at the edge of the sprinklers, pondering the pros and cons of chasing their balls through miniature fountains of water or refusing to wet their coats at such an early hour. For some reason, there is a preponderance of largish black dogs, with a sprinkling of tiny white ones. Integration at work.
Their human companions gather outside the spray, protecting their go-to-work clothing, since once their canine companions have had their fill of chasing and fighting over useless objects, they’ll be leashed and returned to their air-conditioned apartments to await their evening outing. The humans, however, are incredibly quick to race over if or when anything untoward occurs among the constantly forming and reforming pack.
Officially, 9 a.m. is the time to leash everyone up, and the park and water area become dog-free in time for the descent of tiny tots and their caretakers soon after. Here they have no fear of getting a good soaking, playing a game of I dare you with the water and with each other.
Deep woofs and incredibly high-pitched yaps have morphed into squeals and shrieks, which will continue for most of the day, given weather constraints. From my high window, both sets of sounds are music and delight, the sounds of summer play, whatever the species.
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