He’s a goooood boy.

Good dog.

Clancy turned into the hug, closing his eyes beneath the power of Big Bob’s full body scratch.

You’re daddy’s good boy yes you are.

Arf.

Want to play fetch, Clancy?  Do you, boy? Do you?

Arf.

Big Bob and Clancy loved afternoons at the dog park. No isolation at the dog park. No claustrophobia at the dog park. Nothing better than good, clean air at the dog park.

The goofy mutt leaped and ran in circles, getting so excited he jumped straight in the air like a world-class dog Frisbee champion having the time of his life. The big auburn pooch ran toward his master. Then he ran away. To and fro Clancy moved, waiting for the moment Big Bob launched the stick. With a small broken tree branch in hand, Bob turned sideways, wound up and let go.

Charging into the woods, Clancy slid on dried leaves and landed in a pile of debris. Burying his nose deep in the refuse he dug through the litter with both paws looking for the stick. Pulling a dirty towel from the accumulated trash, Clancy bit down hard, shaking his head from left to right.

Grrrrrrr. Grrrrrr.

Here, boy. C’mon, boy, Big Bob said.

Turning fast, the doppy dog dripped thick gobs of saliva from the wet towel into which he buried his snout during his unsuccessful hunt for the stick. Sniffing now with his nose in the air, Clancy’s attention returned to the garbage. Digging even more urgently this time, he uncovered an assortment of stained gloves. Clancy chewed with the zest of a rescue puppy chomping on his favorite rawhide bone. When Big Bob called again, Clancy dropped his new chew toys and ran full speed to continue playing his favorite outdoor game.

Where’s the stick, boy? Awwwww. Poor, Clancy.

Clancy looked around like a drunk who forgot his house keys. Bob found another stick and his next toss landed on the refuse pile where Clancy had been digging.  Racing back to the small hill, Clancy climbed over more dirty gloves and more wet towels when he caught a strange scent, a human animal smell he didn’t recognize. The big dog dug frantically until he unearthed a piece of plastic tubing. Eyes wide with pleasure, he pulled the pliable hose from the trash. But before heading back to his master with his new prize, a small puddle of green slime caught his eye.

Clancy licked the slippery mucus the way he gobbled the vanilla ice cream cones Big Bob bought him in the summer. The sticky goo tasted like a meat-infused gourmet doggie treat. Wild with heightened stimulation, Clancy slobbered even more than usual. After luckily spotting and retrieving Big Bob’s stick, he raced back so proud of himself he strutted with the dignity of a prancing Arabian show horse rather than a dopey, but lovable, Irish Setter.

That’s a good boy, Big Bob said, kneeling to cuddle his pet. Leaning heavily against Big Bob’s legs, Clancy licked his master’s face. His dappled red tongue lapped Big Bob’s eyes, sending slobber gobs into Big Bob’s nostrils. More sloppy doggie kisses mingled spit with Big Bob’s wet open lips.

You’re such a good boy, Big Bob said.

With another great day at the dog park under their collars, they ran all the way home.

It’s about goddamn time they left, the truck driver said.

How long you think we can keep dumping this medical waste at the dog park before somebody reports us?

We’ll ditch the infected gloves, polluted towels and drool-soaked ventilator pipes here until Saturday. Then we’ll find another place. Maybe behind the cemetery. With what they’re paying us, I don’t want to be in the truck with this poisoned crap any longer than we have to.

You hear about the tigers that got sick.

Yeah.

Wonder if dogs and cats can catch it.