Back in mid-December, we moved into an apartment overlooking the westside of Prospect Park, Brooklyn’s comparative parallel to “Central Park”. Why, yes, I’m fully aware this statement comes across as a definitive flex, but we lucked out on a relatively inexpensive place. Plus, upon seeing the space, it’s a shake on the small side. Plus plus, the apartment is damn fun, so I will wholeheartedly own my flex while sipping chai from the 3rd story window and in a whispered low tone to no one, “I own this city” (A fantasy of mine, which has now become a daily routine. It will never grow old).
The move was a circadian adrenaline rush, as we were pressed for time, having only a week to pack/move, on top of the confluence of our two individual apartments (i.e. “stuff”). As cliche as the saying goes, you really have no surmountable idea of how many things you own until you’re moving. Having always taken myself to be a relatively light possessor, I was confident in my strides of the moving process being a cinch… Oh sweet summer child. Expecting my apartment to be finished in under an hour, instead took much longer, thankfully returning the rental van just in the nick of time.
Anyway. You’ve all seen the movies showcasing Central Park in contrasting lights, typically with delightful ice rink montages, or gruesome murders. Obviously, there’s nuance resting between these two worlds, and Prospect Park can be imagined in a similar sense. Just add a sprig of hip Brooklyn edge you loathe, though you secretly sweat for its acceptance. While Prospect Park may not have the fanfare Central Park may receive on a daily tourist-y basis, the park does have one world I’ve become quite accustomed to as of late - the wonderful, yet sometimes bizarre, pack of dog ownership.
If you’re awake & passing by a park as the morning sun crests the heavens of New York City, you may behold a glorious feat. Watch defiantly tired eyed dogs owners (sometimes begrudgingly) strut their mutts to the front lines, their pups dancing about with chaotic energy, literally primed & ready to be unleashed. Witness shear bedlam unfold, as close to one hundred dogs slam bodies against each other, bark incessantly, and attempt to be pulled away by their owners as play turns to nipping. Awash in a sea of uncontrollable mischief, and it’s quite beautiful.
If you REALLY like dogs, this might become your life.
A mass exodus occurs around 9am, as owners drag their stubborn dogs back for the beginning of the work day, and as NYC Parks only allows off-leash until then… Unless you’re like myself, or the band of several other dog owners who stay past the permitted time; The brave, rebellious few, who have arrived a *tad* bit on the later side, running up against the 9am window. While the stories circulate around, it’s apparent the Park officers do ticket quite aggressively. Whispers of “Yesterday, they were handing out tickets here, so be on full alert” echo from obedient owners, who give us more mutinous types the hairy eyeball, as they’re exiting the park.
Knock on wood - I’ve yet to experience the enforcement in action. Luckily, the winter season has some privileges. The colder weather keeps everyone but the diehards (or desperates) away, thus the fields are less occupied, and a bit more muddy & beaten up. Contrast this image to the blooming warmer summer weather featuring volleyball nets, Quidditch matches (Yes, the Harry Potter broom game brought to reality), and merry picnickers. This notion of seasonality has become gospel, thus why policing may be absent. My evidence is purely circumstantial due to my limited Prospect Park observations, so we’ll observe the coming months as the warmer weather creeps in, and reseeding of the lawnsins.
Since ring parkside, visiting the park has become my reality twice a day for almost two months. Greta (husky mix - see photo below) has become easily accustomed to the accessibility, and leverages our location quite well against me (I’m a sucker). You may believe the intention to move was more for her, than for us. You, dear reader, are absolutely correct.
A dog. Mostly good, but sometimes bad.
One may presume the paramount about this daily ritual would be interacting with the myriad beautiful, vivacious beasts, but you would be incredibly incorrect. Oh no, the entertainment doesn’t even derive from the dogs themselves, but their proud owners. These seemingly symbiotic partners, caught in a furry dance; as dog’s best friend, and on numerous occasions, a temporary enemy, especially when the owner wrestles foreign objects from the lion’s grasp.
When I’m amidst the throes of dodging furry shapes whipping past my legs, sometimes I’ll take a mental step back, appreciating the sheer beauty of the community (unbeknownst to many) taking shape. I struggle to conjure another public space where a multitude of personalities converge. People ranging from the lone stoic, who’s bundled up head to toe, carefully keeping a watchful eye on their furry friend, to the ‘NYC Old Money’ eccentric, who acts like they hosted the party, interjecting into conversation lavishly and throwing smiles at every passerby. Everyone present is thrown together simply by the chaotic nature of dog/pet ownership. We’ve gathered on this literal common ground! This discovery accompanies my dog park adventures lately, I’ve found it quite endearing, if not enveloped in complete awe.
While we all chose to be pet owners, we have little choice in caring for our furry companions - they can’t look after themselves! The ‘arduous’ journey to the park brings together individuals from all walks of life collectively. Without trying to come off a bit ‘woo-woo’, a vast collective energy is felt when stepping onto the park grounds - and certainly Greta senses the energy as well. From the second I’m awake, jittery yet patient beady eyes burrow into my skull, waiting for the initiative signals (coat being thrown on, leash pulled down) of ‘park time’. Every dog inhabited household across the world encounters this very situation every single morning. This energy destined to be unleashed doesn’t perpetuate solely from the dogs themselves. Like our canine companions, even us humans are overought with anxiety, primed to be disgorged. We awake, the day commences, and as we tally plans in our head, the dog park is doubtlessly our cardinal venture into the outside world. We perceive the park as merely a place for our dog to release said energy and socialize; a destination to check off in our daily tasks. However, we fail to comprehend a major aspect of the dog park is for the release of our own energy, and an undiscovered desire for our own socialization. While the comparison may bring a chuckle, we crave substance through belonging & community just as much as our dogs do. Whereas the threshold for interplay is distinguishable from person to person, socialization is a necessary part of rejuvenating our mental well being - even though we may believe we can exist devoid of it.
For those among us intimidated by preliminary social interaction, you’re in luck. The perfect adorable icebreaker is already in your disposal - your pup. Get this - you already have the answers to the top 4 questions asked by fellow dog owners.
- “Which one is yours?”
- “What’s your dog’s name?”
- “How old are they?”
- “What breed are they?”
They’re fluid both ways! Consider the ice, broken. While I won’t be accompanying you on the remainder of your dog park human socialization journey, you’re already 90% of the way there. Congratulations!
Life is also a garden for a dog - they dig it.
Though we are quite far from being best friends, the people I’ve shared laughs & stories with, almost exclusively about our pets, have become a delightful highlight of my day. Upon seeing my dog park acquaintances, there’s a rush of elation to traverse further conversation than the base level pet ‘shop’ talk we normally regroup to. Plus, Greta is immensely particular about the crowd she runs with, so running into familiar faces (human & dog) is a gift. While the visits are oftentimes fleeting due to their duration, a sense of stability (or a necessary constant) is a tranquil familiar feeling to experience day to day. Belonging is a requisite for fulfillment in this life, and it took me an inordinate amount of time, reflection, and hundreds of visits to the dog park, to embrace it. In profound resonance, a forming of community can be developed in any local grassy/dirt field, inclusive of anyone with a four legged friend.
Unfortunately, good cannot exist without a splash of evil, even at a dog park. Aggressive dogs, helicopter dog parents, even cliques among park frequenters, are all encounters I’ve experienced. A keen observation I’ve discerned lately is the dichotomy of class within this vacuum of park participants. Each pup is a unique signifier of wealth to some degree, and can be extrapolated thereforth. With a quick glance, it’s fairly straightforward to separate the more expensive breeds, from those who may have adopted. Comparisons are drawn in parallel with owners of larger dogs occupying a more substantial dwelling (or you would hope), and thus earning a stronger income. In a neighborhood flush with Brownstones, Limestones, and new developments, the assumption is not far off. Though, it’s said that comparison is the thief of joy, so we’ll let the above observance lie.
Let’s part ways on a lovely high note. Did I mention the best part about the dogs themselves?
THE NAMES.
The pandemic brought a significant influx of dog adoptions, as I’ve gathered from conversing with dog park owners, and a handful of the local adoption agencies (no, no plans on adopting another dog, just interviewing). Loneliness is truly a mental health crisis. When casually meeting/conversing with new owners, inquiring about their dog (see questions above!), the term “Quarantine purchase” is proudly thrown around quite frequently (even though the phrasing could use some work). Because of this adaptation to cure pandemic blues, there’s a momentous amount of pride in pet ownership now, due to attachment. This pride, be it primarily joy, projects in a multitude of manners; my favorite occurring is the formalities of naming the dogs themselves. Dog owners have taken a great deal of self-indulgent liberties in ‘christening’ their pups, and it’s quite unmistakable, if not unapologetic, in nature. Don’t ever get it twisted, I, for one, am all about a ridiculous naming of an animal. The amount of owners who see no humor in their naming befuddles me, but hey, you do you. Though the hilariously surreal nature of your ears deafening from a dog owner screaming “NOODLE! NOODLE! STOP HUMPING, NOODLE!” will never cease to entertain me. Have I mentioned how proud dog owners are?
Sound off for names I’ve encountered:
- Butter
- Papaya
- Toast
- Noodle
- Kiwi
- Bagel
- Wiki
- Juniper
- Esther
- Exhaust
- Ian (Human names are the quintessential pet name)
- So many more I’ve forgetting
Let me know your pups name in the comments!
5 Great Bands To Dive Into (via Bandcamp!)
Gospel - The Loser (Post hardcore from NYC)
Friendship - Love The Stranger (Folk country, I’m a sucker for a pedal steel)
Zola Jesus - ARKHON (Electronic goth but so soothing)
Mormor - Semblance (Indie pop from Ontario - Blood Orange vibes)
Brutus - Unison Life (Alt rock from Belgium, her voice is full of rasp & passion)
3 Good Things Lately
- The Hold Steady 20th anniversary show at Music Hall of Williamsburg. My next ‘anecdote’ will be about this show, and my immutable fandom.
- Zero-Waste Fireside Chat with NYU professor/author Robin Nagle at P&T Knitwear Books about the NYC sanitation department, and how we’re all kind fucked as far as recycling goes.
- Lately I’ve been venturing back into past projects. One of them being contrasting mirror photography, but using film instead. While I have to develop my first roll (or even run through it), I’m enthusiastic about the finished project. Here’s an example shot on my iPhone from when I began this style a few years ago:
Craigslist; Or, How I Learned To Love The Chaos
Don’t worry, nothing strange involved.
And here I was nailing down my skanky Patti Smith impersonation.
I love the wholesomeness of this posting.
Do diagnosed psychopaths puruse Craigslist?
L O N G
Lately I’ve been obsessed with measuring ridiculous objects (pets) using the iPhone measuring tool:
It’s barely accurate, but enormously entertaining.
All For Now
Until next time, remember socialization and an outlet for your existential energy to be propelled into the living world are your essential human needs, as much as any animal out there. Talk soon.
Cornelius
PS: While compiling/writing this post, I enjoyed the companionship of the band The War On Drugs (more specifically, their album Live Drugs (sadly not on Bandcamp), this WILD article about ‘racist’ beekeeping in Austria, and the word ‘murmuration’ (A flock of starlings).