The Wicked Flea

their heels and whirled around in the air. Absurd! But spun around by my heels was more or less the way I felt when Ceci and I were in the middle of the field with her dog group and she finally had the opportunity to introduce me to the much-talked-about eligible gentleman, Douglas.
    I’ll begin my own introduction of Douglas by saying that his dog, Ulysses, was a large, silly-looking mix of what were probably a dozen breeds, most of them scent hounds, including bloodhound, basset, and black-and-tan. Ulysses was long and tall, with floppy ears and an improbable coat consisting of blotches, tufts, and bristles. His predominant color was grayish brown, but a brown splotched with large white splashes and dotted, spotted, and ticked with shades of black. He looked like a long-haired dog who’d been shaved to the skin some months earlier and had then had the misfortune to stand next to someone who spilled a gallon jug of bleach on him. Ulysses’ soulful basset eyes were his best feature. His nose never wandered far from the ground.
    Ulysses’ owner, or in park parlance, his daddy, was a pleasant-looking fortyish man, about five ten, with blue eyes and a fading tan. Sound familiar? If not, it will. When I’d seen him before, he’d worn a suit. Now, he’d apparently been running. He had on gray sweatpants, a gray sweatshirt, and expensive running shoes, white with turquoise flame-shaped decorations, probably intended to connote speed. I studied his shoes for a few seconds. It was easier than meeting his gaze. When I raised my eyes, we exchanged knowing smiles. Douglas and I had something in common. We were both in therapy with Dr. Foote.
    “I’m so glad that you two have finally had a chance to meet,” Ceci gushed. “I knew that Holly would just love—”
    I held my breath.
    “—Ulysses,” she finished, to my great relief.
    “Ulysses is wonderful,” I said to Douglas. “He’s”—I sought the right word—“unique.”
    Douglas’s eyes twinkled. “He’s that. Your dog is beautiful.”
    Rowdy was again enjoying the privilege of accompanying me. I hate to play favorites. Most of the time, I take both dogs everywhere. But if Zsa Zsa tackled Kimi? There wasn’t going to be an if, not with Kimi at home. “Thank you,” I said. “He’s a good boy.” Standing at my side, his eyes fixed on me, Rowdy wagged his perfect tail.
    Douglas was beginning to reply, but a horrendous noise drowned him out. If every horrendous noise I’d heard at the park that morning had been a drop of water, we’d all have drowned. There was no actual rain. On the contrary, the sky was a wintery blue. Despite the chilly weather, the park was a popular place this morning. In the distance, graceful figures danced across the basketball courts and tennis courts. Runners ran, and congenial-looking groups of people, mostly women, walked briskly, as if determined to shake the blubber off their thighs. A few dozen delightfully assorted dogs fraternized in the field, while their self-proclaimed parents exchanged the human equivalents of sniffs and play bows.
    If it hadn’t been for the intervention of a certain supposed dog expert, the whole sunlit scene would’ve been a sort of impressionist study in the mundane beauty of middle-class recreation. The appearance of harmony was illusory. When I’d picked Ceci up that morning, she’d shown me two letters to the editor she’d clipped from the Newton Pulse.
     
Ban Dogs!
Bad enough that Clear Creek Park is already polluted by dog feces without the latest, which is noise pollution from loud noisemakers blown at all times of the day and night to supposedly stop dogs from fighting with each other and attacking innocent persons like myself who seek exercise and peaceful solace in the publicly owned woods. Enough is enough! It’s high time to clean up Newton’s parks by banning dogs totally and outright.
 -DOUG HARE
NEWTON CENTRE
 
People Will Be Next!
Regarding grumbling throughout the City about “noise” in Newton parks, Newtonians are harboring under a false assumption. Concerned dog-owning citizens in the futile (!) hope of placating anti-dog factions at Clear Creek Park, in fact, sought the advice of a professional dog training expert who recommended the application of loud auditory stimuli as a scientifically proven method of modifying the behavior of dogs which were offending non-dog users of the park. Now those same complainers are whining about the efforts to modify the very