At 24 years of age I had a early life crisis. My goals in the horse industry evaporated with the death of my stallion and I was at a loss of where to go next. So I retreated to the safety of my childhood home. My new goals center around creativity, writing to be precise! My new job to help pay for my food and shelter until writing begins to pay off! Doggy Day Care! My charges include my personal puppy friend, Willow an Aussie mix with endless energy and a tennis ball obsession. My dad's dog Sherman, a basset pit bull cross shaped like a plump golden sausage nick named Mr. Noodle and all forms of noodle nonsense. My mom's dog Sydney, a bossy lab Blue Healer mix with bad hips and bad knees.

I did some research on the k-nine species by reading Ceaser Millan's book and another on dog training. I filled my pockets with doggie treats and everyday I took these pups for a walk. At first we tried the standard walking gig with leashes and sidewalk, but it just didn't work for this crew because they don't have a standard speed at which they can all agree upon. Willow wants to run everywhere, she's too fast. Sydney gimps along at her own pace,she is too slow. Sherman is just right, and he jogs along like a perfect pet noodle at my heel.

Our next attempt at walking took us into the woods near my house. Muddy deer trails and fallen trees along a steep hillside had me slipping and sliding, covered in red clay mud up to my elbows, but the dogs love it. They can each move at their own speed, lots to sniff and piddle on, plenty of sticks to have tossed and the neighbor dog often tags along. This is our usual route, but it grew old after a few weeks and I wanted some new scenery, and a bit less exercise for my own lazy body.

One sunny winter morning, the coming spring teased me out of bed with blue skies and bright sun. Birds were singing beyond my window and Sherman was whining outside my bedroom door. I was inspired and up for an adventure! “Let's go to the Park!” I bounded out of bed, cleaned out my dad's Lincoln Mercury and covered the back seat in a huge blanket to keep the dogness out of the cracks in the seat. Then i loaded the pooches three into the plush back seat and off we went for a doggie adventure. Well the park I chose is a wildlife preserve famed for excellent bike trails, a river and wide open fields perfect for chucking balls. I didn't realize until we got there that it has an actual dog park within the main park! Unsure how my marginally socialized dog pals would get along with hundreds of milling, free ranging pups all wanting to sniff and play, I opted for a regular walk instead.

My friends three were excited to be somewhere new, marking and sniffing all the great sniff spots, lapping duckpond water and swimming in the river were great fun, but when we accidentally came upon the wild dog field I could hardly contain them. Dogs were running up to us, bounding and giddy with their unleashed freedom, barking their excitement and invitations.

O.k., I thought, lets give this a try. First I read the dog park rules, seeing as I had never attended any thing like this before. Then I set my dogs free! Willow could think of nothing else but the chuck it. Sherman and Sydney were shy at first, sticking close to my heels watching their butts for renegade sniffers. I walked along, enjoying the sunshine and the first day of t shirt weather in many moons.

A friendly shaggy Rottwieler came over to greet us, bounding and wagging its joy. Sherm was smitten! He followed the Rotty around, his ears perked and tail wagging high. He got many looks and laughs with his pigeon toes goofy noodleness. Sydney decided she was too old to frolic with other dogs. Sherman is enough dog for her, so she stayed with me just taking it all in.

Sherm on the other hand gave up his love affair with the Rotty and began running around the park wildly like a flying golden sausage, ears flapping for an impossible take off. I could not tell if he was lost, looking all around for us, or if he was circling the park in joyous madness. I gave a little whistle and he came running towards our silly threesome, making us a silly quartet.

Ah, the dog park. A little slice of Dog America, where all dogs have freedom, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. What a beautiful land! I am glad we stumbled upon this groovy wonderland. Seeing all smiling slobbering faces of the dogs at the park was a joy to behold. Their happiness permeates every tree and shrub in the vicinity. I am so fortunate to spend my time with these special animals, always happy little children allowed to just be themselves. I learned a lesson from my knine companions. They live to be dogs. That is the only life they have ever known, and they are so lucky to have never lost that identity. I feel like I have lost and found my identity countless time in my life. Thanks to the lessons of the dog I feel I have found a part of myself and anchored to it. Now I am sure to hold onto the piece of myself that makes my tail wag and face split in a massive slobbering grin. When ever I need a little reminder, I will just load the pooches into the car for another dog park adventure. Another glimpse at real happiness.