When I got to Yaz and Stan's house there was such excitement I heard barking through the door. They also jumped on it, so that the "Yaz has to go to the bathroom" bells rang. Then I got clobbered. When I made it to the green chair, Stan jumped up so his front paws were in my lap, pinning me down, and Yaz clambered and then started biting his back ankles. In his defense I pet her too, but he jumped back up and she was feeling quite shunned. I picked her up and put her on my lap and she practically purred, resting her head on my the chair while I pet her and Stan at once. Finally they remembered I go there to make them breakfast, so they let me up.
Then we went to the dog park via the Garden. Since I'd been taking photos of downtown since 6:30 a.m., we drove from their house. Stan was so overzealous that he pre-maturely tried to jump into the car and ended up falling down because the leash wasn't loose enough yet. He tried to regain his manly authority by stepping forward to the front seat, but that only held until I got into the car.
At the Garden, Yaz played her snack-whore game. At least this time she actually caught the treats in the air when Jeremy threw them, and since she had an audience of one woman watching she moved on to try to get her attention for maybe a bite of her bagel or perhaps her coffee.
This from a dog who is still sick because she ate a whole loaf of homemade bread off the kitchen counter two days ago while her humans were gone.
Stan, whose broken bone in his front paw is still supposed to be on the mend, found a tennis ball to play with at the park. Of all the balls littering the grassland,the one he fixated on was wedged on the other side of the chain link fence, so he tried to reach through (with both paws, alternately) to get it. At first, I tried to help him, but the fence went too far into the dirt and too high into the air for me to reach it, and even though I can get my hand through, the ball can't get through, so I tried to talk him into playing with a different tennis ball.
"Come on Stan! You know you have a broken paw! You can't play with that one. It's on the other side of the fence. Look, there's a squeaky toy [there was one, in the dirt behind him--I kicked it], go get that, go on Stan! Go get it!" I walked away toward other tennis balls and Yaz. "Come on Stan! Come on! Stan! Stan!"
Feeling relatively foolish, I looked at Yaz and just walked toward her--the dog who was trying to poop while a little white dog kept pestering her and, of course, sniffing her butt.
So Yaz was empty but trying, Stan was trying to get a ball that he couldn't reach, and finally they both gave up and just came over and hung out with me.
On the way, Stan picked up another tennis ball (praise God!) and then put it down to stalk it and try to mind-wave it into moving. I gave it little kicks, trying to protect his baby paw. Clearly this game is not as satisfactory as the all-out chase down the hill after a bouncing, uncooperative speedy tennis ball. Still though, Yaz was intrigued enough to try to A) steal the ball from Stan, B) failing that kill Stan. I had to call her off, since that's a game for at home because other dogs and their humans don't always understand she's just playing.
Yaz, usually aloof and securing the perimeter of the park was very playful today. I had to throw sticks so she could be involved without tormenting Stan (who barked at a little dog that ignored all the other tennis balls scattered around and tried to take Stan's). She did that outstretched front paw lowered head thing that dogs do when they feel frisky. Then she tried to eat the sticks.
At home, Stan was content to let me pet him while, Yaz acted like I was trying to pluck her hairs individually with tweezers. We hung out for a while, played with a squeaky plush-covered Christmas-colored bone, let Yaz try to kill Stan and Stan try to defend himself and then I left them to their own devices.
All this because tonight the humans are going to Petco Park at the Park to play kickball and the pets are going to have to stay home.