A Good Walk Spoiled

Five years ago, when they were building an elementary school in our school's parking lot, the temporary parking solution involved finding a space either on the street or in the lot down by the tennis courts two blocks away. The second option required us to walk around the community soccer fields, tennis courts, basketball courts, and school garden on our way into the building. Generally? The walk was not a problem, although foul weather made it a bit unpleasant at times. Even so, I came to enjoy the extra activity right before and right after my work day. It was a time to decompress, be outside, and depending on the time of day, be a part of the community that uses the fields.

When the elementary school opened, our parking moved to an underground garage beneath it, which was much closer to the entrance of our school. One of the concerns about building another school so close to our own was always traffic flow; both schools use the same narrow bus lane and loop; the garage entrance is right there, too, and the drop-off for students is not clearly demarcated and over by the other school. So let's just say that any teacher arriving after contract time in the morning will definitely get jammed up before being able to park and enter the building, which is a frustrating and stressful way to start your day.

Lately, I have returned to parking by the tennis courts. It's far enough way that I can park with ease, and the walk is still kind of nice. I've been really talking it up to Heidi, too, and this morning when we rode in together, I was looking forward to showing her how much better parking over there is than fighting the traffic.

We heard a dog barking frantically when we pulled in. "Animal Control is here," Heidi noted, gesturing to the white van idling diagonally across three spaces. 

A group of three people with their dogs were talking with concerned looks on their faces by the tennis courts. "Maybe there's a raccoon in the trash can," I guessed.

"I'm pretty sure it's that dog," Heidi pointed.

Sure enough, a medium brown pitbull mix was pacing and barking in the chainlink pitching cage over by the baseball diamond. As we approached, an animal control officer with a wire trapline calmly approached and entered the gate. She quickly cornered the dog and slipped the loop around its shoulders. We continued toward school as she secured a leash on the now quiet dog. On the concrete slab of the enclosure, we saw a light blue blanket and a toy carrot.

"He must've been left there," I said, and I felt my throat tighten at the idea. I couldn't shake the image of someone caring enough for a dog to give it a blanket and a toy, but feeling forced for some reason to abandon it. Heidi and I walked on in silence.

"I guess this wasn't the best morning for parking over here," I sighed.