The Rules

For the past eleven years I have been running through the park with my dog. She has been my companion through wind and rain and sun and fog. On a number of occasions, I have met my the rest of my family near the playstructure and my dog has enjoyed doing her many circus tricks. She loves to go down the slide. She gets very impatient with us if we don't let her go down at least a couple of times.
Now that fun has to stop. I'll still go on runs with her. She'll still look longingly at the slide for a chance to show off her amazing talent, but we won't be running through the park anymore. You see, there are no dogs allowed in the park. This is not a new rule. I actually noticed it, right there at the top of the sign that says, "Park Rules." It's number one. But I confess that I continued to run past and around those signs on my way through the park, confident in the knowledge that I have a very well-behaved dog and a spare bag in my left hand in case of any "comfort stops."
This week, I've been running a little earlier in the afternoon, and I have encountered the kids playing at their summer day camp. My dog has never been anything but patient with kids, and so it never occurred to me that I would be bothering anyone. Quite to the contrary: I have stopped to let curious short people pet and stroke her while I catch my breath. So imagine my surprise when a little girl came running up behind me the other day, "Sir?"
I pulled one of my earphones out, expecting he usual request to pet my dog.
"My camp counselor says that you can't bring your dog into the park."
"Excuse me?"
"My camp counselor says," and before she could finish, her camp counselor came up behind her and told me that I couldn't bring my dog into the park.
"It's against the rules," he asserted.
"But I've been doing this same run for eleven years," I huffed.
"I'm sorry. Those are the rules," and he took his little charge with him back to the four square game.
Yesterday I avoided the situation by going on a different route, but today I found myself heading back to the park. And instead of running through the park, I ran around it. It's about the same distance, and my dog didn't seem to be too sad about missing the playstructure. I decided to change my route. Why? Because that's the rule. When I got a ticket for running a stop sign while riding my bike, I paid it. I could have protested the ticket and complained about how there must be something else that a policeman in Oakland could be doing rather than giving out tickets to bicyclists on their way to teach at an elementary school, but I didn't. It's the rule.
And the rule says "No Dogs." The good news is, there are lots of places where my dog is more than welcome. That's where we'll be going from now on. And we won't be breaking any rules.