If there is one thing I’ll never tire of (other than good sushi and a stiff gin & tonic) it’s observing the social interactions and politics that take place at the dog park. To a non-dog lover (aka weirdo) these exchanges might seem like primitive and isolated encounters, when in fact they are intricate and complicated assemblies that establish rules and rank within their private canine world.

Take Roxy for example. For her, the purpose of a trip to the dog park is not to socialize but to establish as much distance between Cash and her tennis ball as she possibly can. This isn’t to say that she doesn’t like Cash or enjoy his exuberant bulldozing; it’s just an opportunity for her to have some “me-time” in the great outdoors away from her two brothers.

Cash, on the other hand, loves nothing more than a passel of foreign behinds to acquaint himself with. The dog park is his utopia – complete and utter freedom to run, jump, mark, lie in mud and just be a big, goofy dog.

Chance’s relationship with the dog park has yet to be determined. His first few forays into this vast landscape of freedom consisted of anxiety and unease – this kind of liberty, he is not accustomed with. Over time, however, he seems to have developed a sense of independence and even joy during these weekly excursions. Except for when he is approached by a strange dog, then all hell breaks loose and the Mongolian Monster is unleashed. Be still my proud mommy heart.