You know those days where everything just lines up? That’s how this walk started. My mom got home from work, looked tired, but then said the magic words:
“Wanna go to Centennial?”
Yes, I do. Always.
Especially because Centennial Park has an off-leash area. Let me repeat that: an off-leash area. For dogs like me, this is the stuff of dreams. It means freedom, it means other dogs, and it means I get to be my full self with no one tugging at my neck. I live for this.
Even better? We weren’t going alone. My best friend Arthur was coming too.
Arthur is another doodle – same general shape as me, but a little shorter and less lanky. He’s a little younger than me, and extremely energetic. Like, rocket-powered. He is obsessed with squirrels, and his recall… well, let’s just say it’s a work in progress. When our humans call us, I come back like a gentleman. Arthur comes back eventually. Maybe.
But I don’t mind. He makes everything more fun.
As soon as we hit the trail, the leashes came off and we were gone—two curly blurs flying down the path. I’m beige, so everything shows on me. Arthur’s brown, so he can sort of hide the mess a little better. Not fair, but I’ve accepted it.
We ran. We wrestled. We sniffed everything. We met other dogs. We ran through puddles.
And then, the mud. We didn’t even mean to get that dirty… it just sort of happened.
By the time we reached the far end of the trail, I looked like I was wearing little brown boots.
My mom? Not happy.
Because, yeah—I had just had a bath. Two days earlier. I smelled like oatmeal and looked like a cloud. My dad was not thrilled when we got home. He just stared at me for a full ten seconds, like he was calculating how much shampoo he had left.
So, back into the tub I went. Again.
To his credit, Dad didn’t say much. Just sighed a lot while rinsing mud out of my fur and pulling a stick out from behind my ear. (How did it get there? Unknown.)
I stood still, like a good boy. I didn’t argue. Because honestly? That walk was worth it.
Running free with Arthur, chasing wind, sliding through mud, and being exactly who we are—goofy, happy dogs in our element? That’s the good stuff. That’s what the off-leash hours are for.
And if it means an extra bath or two?
Well… maybe I’ll just stay out of puddles next time. (Maybe.)
Check out other Thunder Bay dog parks.
