It's a birthday. It's a dog park. It's DEFINITELY NOT WEIRD.
โ๏ธ me, looking out my window at literally any dog
I am a grown-ass 45-year-old man (as of next week) and all I want for my birthday is to see you... bring your dog to the Glen Rock Dog Park.
I tried to get in by myself without a dog. They wouldn't let me. It's like going to Chuck E. Cheese to play the video games without a kid. Understandable. But still, a bit creepy.
So I need you. And more importantly, I need your dog.
I have a 10-year plan to convince Gwenn to let us get a dog.
I'm in year 21. It's not going well.
In fairness, she is trying to save my life. There isn't enough Claritin in the world to keep my skin from melting clean off my body if a dog were to actually live in my house. She's a hero. A real one. A medical professional could not have done better.
But I'm willing to risk life & limb for ONE day with your dog.
Listen. I'm not Robert Redford. I don't have a million dollars. I have Claritin, half a Costco bag of Pup-Peroni, and a deep, unwell desire to scratch your dog behind the ears for approximately 45 minutes.
But the offer stands. Name your price. (Within reason. Cash, Venmo, or homemade brownies accepted.)
A carefully choreographed descent into anaphylaxis, followed by cocktails.
โ ๏ธ TIMES ARE APPROXIMATE ยท DOGS ARE NOT ON A SCHEDULE ยท NEITHER AM I โ ๏ธ