Fido & Me — A pic-a-nic in the park


“I love a pic-a-nic,” Fido said. “We should have one every single day in the summer.”


“You wouldn’t get an argument out of me, you loveable old lug. I like ’em too. What’s your favorite part?”


“I think it’s when the little kids walk around with food at my eye level. With just a growl and a snarl, they’ll drop just about anything!”


“If you don’t mind me saying, Fido, that sounds a little mean to me. They’re just little kids. You wouldn’t want them growing up thinking that dogs are mean, would you?”


“Good point,” Fido said. “Sometimes I don’t think things through all the way.”


“You can say that again, but then again, you don’t have to. Anyway, what else do you like about pic-a-nics?”


“I like that everyone shows up to have a fun time. It’s like scheduled fun. And summer is the best time, because the days last forever and ever and ever.”


“Actually Fido, tonight is the Summer Solstice, and tomorrow, Friday, is the longest day of the year—the first full day of Pic-a-nic Season. Where would you like to have your pic-a-nic?”


“Horseshoe Lake!” Fido howled. “It’s just but the bestest place on Earth! It has beaches and logs to pee on, and lots of other dogs, and water you can swim in and no leash laws!”


“That’s a pretty strong endorsement, Fido, although I might point out that humans like to sit on those logs, and well …”


“And it’s high enough so that when it’s hot everywhere else, it’s not so hot at Horseshoe Lake.”


“That didn’t come out quite right, Mr. Beeg, but I can see where you’re going with this.”


“We can run and run and run!”


“Fido, aren’t you forgetting something?”




“To make a great pic-a-nic, we need to have people there, along with pic-a-nic food, and maybe some music, too. What will we do about that?”


“I’ll bring it before the Hound Council, calling for an ‘All-Hounds-On-Deck Pic-a-nic.’ We’ll call for a pic-a-nic every night for the rest of summer!”


“Fido, it’s just possible that maybe the Hound Council has other things to think about right about now. After all, it’s the end of the fiscal year, and Mighty Matters have to be decided by July 1, like who gets how much from what’s left of the Town Pie.”


“Pie?!? There’s a Town Pie?!? Hey hey hey hey!”


“You old goofball, it’s a manner of speaking—an expression. I could have said ‘Hound Budget,’ but that sounds so boring.”


“I want some of that pie,” Fido said. “Preferably, at eye level.”


“This is why I love you, you old mutt.”