We load up in the van, and his emotions start to overwhelm him. His whining increases to operatic intensity, including the vibrato. The lot at Tanner Park is overflowing so we park on the street. Walking down the trail toward free-run heaven, we pass by numerous fellow celebrants, who bounce and weave leashes as they head toward the gate or trudge, languid-eyed and sated, back to their cars.
Max sits at the free-run sign and I unsnap him. For the first hundred yards his agenda is wide open, but as we approach the first open field he gets focused. Galloping ahead he spins to wait, and then greets me with a series of sideways hops, levitating to eye level with little apparent effort.
I toss his bumper far down the hill and he sprints after it with abandon, scooping it up before it comes to rest. Retrieving is Max's passion.
We've been together now for a year, and we're grooved into a happy routine. But I had my doubts at first. Willful, energetic and intelligent, he had worn out his first two owners. Like a deer in a dog skin, he bounded around his world, tracking it liberally with his four-nailed signature.
My knees were too creaky to run with him. Running him alongside my bike spared the knees, but placed us one panicked cat away from disaster. And then we found the park.
I had no idea what a dog would bring to my life. I walk past him and the tip of his tail vibrates a greeting. He buries his head in my lap and looses a groan of pleasure as I rub his neck. He certifies me as good people to the sometimes hidden clan of dog lovers, and pays his way in laughs and lowered blood pressure alone.
Some people ask why taxes should support free-run dog parks. They are actually asking why we should support public parks at all. Softball diamonds, tennis courts, picnic areas - none of these are used by a majority of taxpayers. The short answer is that parks are essential elements to our quality of life.
More than two thirds of U.S. households have pets, and most of them see their pets as family; a goofy attitude I now understand completely. Hundreds of these families use the Parley's off-leash area daily. If there are signs of wear and tear from this year-round use, these are signs of the need for more quality open space to run our dogs, not less.
There is serious talk in the Salt Lake City Council of closing Parley's Historic Nature Park to off-leash use. I sympathize with those who argue that the presence of dogs compromises the original intended use of this riparian island.
Relentless development in our valley has left us with many conflicting open-space needs. But as I type this, the sun is lowering in the west and a cold nose tickles my elbow.
I can provide Max with food and love, but I can't provide the room he needs to run. If we lose Parley's Park, we will be forced to sneak at night into schoolyards and parks, hoping to avoid animal control citations. We will rarely see the friends, canine and human, who now accompany us on our evening strolls.
Our lives will be sadly impoverished, and I will become a one-issue voter.
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* JOHN GRISWOLD is a partner and project manager for a small design/build construction company, Capitol Hill Construction, and has built and remodeled homes in Salt Lake Valley for more than 30 years.
