Bark at the Park. You know the deal. You bring your dog to the baseball stadium. You sit in the bleachers. Your dog watches the game — or sleeps, or tries to eat a napkin off the ground. It's supposed to be fun. And it is. For about two innings. Then the food vendors start walking by.
I made the mistake of bringing a full meal for myself to a game last year. A hot dog. Some fries. A pretzel. I thought I was being smart by not sharing. I was not smart.
My golden retriever, Murphy, sat next to me like a perfect gentleman. For the first inning. Then the hot dog vendor walked by. Murphy's nose twitched. His ears perked up. His eyes locked onto my food with the intensity of a predator spotting prey.
A piece of hot dog bun. A fry. Another fry. Half a bite of hot dog. A piece of ice from my drink. By the third inning, Murphy had consumed approximately 600 calories. That's more than half his daily budget. In three innings. While I was "not sharing."
I didn't realize how bad it was until I got home and actually calculated it. A standard hot dog is about 300 calories. The bun is another 150. Fries? Maybe 250 for a small order. The pretzel? 400. I ate maybe half of each. Murphy ate the other half. Plus the bits that fell. Plus the bits I "accidentally" dropped because he was looking at me with those eyes.
Here's the thing about dogs at public events. They are not capable of self-regulation. They will eat until they explode. And we, as owners, are not capable of saying no when 40,000 people are watching us and our dog is making sad eyes at a hot dog.
I talked to a client last week — her name was Jennifer, she had a beagle named Bandit. She took Bandit to a street fair in Portland. She swore she didn't feed him anything. "I was so careful," she said. Then we did the math. Bandit ate: three pieces of dropped kettle corn (120 calories), half a corn dog that a kid dropped (200 calories), a piece of pizza crust from a trash can (150 calories), and a lick of someone's ice cream cone (50 calories). Total: 520 calories. For a 25-pound beagle that needs 600 calories per day. In two hours.
Jennifer cried when she saw the numbers. "I thought I was being good," she said. She was being good. But good isn't enough when your dog is a vacuum cleaner with legs.
So here's my rule now. If I'm taking Murphy to a public event, he gets his full meal before we leave. He gets a frozen Kong toy to keep him busy. And I bring his own treats — low-calorie, measured, boring. Because if I rely on my willpower at a baseball stadium, I will lose. Every single time.
Last month I took him to another game. I brought carrot sticks. For both of us. He ate his carrots. He watched the game. He didn't beg for my hot dog because he wasn't hungry. And I ate my hot dog in peace. It was the best game I've ever been to.
—Megan (currently on my third cup of coffee because writing this made me tired)
Let me tell you about the worst Bark at the Park I ever attended. It was three years ago. I brought my friend's dog, a 40-pound border collie named Dash. Dash was supposed to be "well-trained." Dash was not well-trained at a baseball stadium.
Within the first inning, Dash had eaten: a dropped nacho chip (30 calories), a piece of pretzel that fell two rows down (50 calories), a lick of someone's ice cream cone when they weren't looking (40 calories), and what I can only describe as "mystery meat" from under a seat that I didn't see until it was too late (who knows, let's call it 100 calories). Total: 220 calories. In one inning. For a 40-pound dog that needed 800 calories per day. That's 27 percent of his daily budget. In 20 minutes.
I spent the rest of the game in a state of constant vigilance. Every vendor was an enemy. Every dropped food item was a landmine. Every child with a hot dog was a threat. I didn't watch a single pitch. I watched Dash. And Dash watched food. It was the most stressful baseball game I've ever attended. And I've been to games where the Mariners were losing by 10 runs.
Here's what I've learned since then. If you're taking your dog to a public event, you need a plan. Not a vague intention. A plan. Step one: feed them a full meal before you leave. A hungry dog at a food event is a disaster waiting to happen. Step two: bring their own treats. Boring, low-calorie, measured treats. Not the good stuff. The boring stuff. Step three: keep them on a short leash. Not for their safety. For your sanity. Step four: accept that you will not enjoy the event the way you used to. You're not there for the game. You're there for the dog. And that's okay.
Last summer, I took Murphy to a street fair in Portland. I followed my own rules. He ate before we left. I brought carrot sticks. He was on a 4-foot leash. And I spent the entire fair watching him instead of the vendors. He ate zero unplanned calories. I ate zero fair food because I was too busy watching him. We both went home hungry and proud. It was the best fair I've ever been to.
—Megan (currently on my third cup of coffee because writing this made me tired)
Let me tell you about the worst Bark at the Park I ever attended. It was three years ago. I brought my friend's dog, a 40-pound border collie named Dash. Dash was supposed to be "well-trained." Dash was not well-trained at a baseball stadium.
Within the first inning, Dash had eaten: a dropped nacho chip (30 calories), a piece of pretzel that fell two rows down (50 calories), a lick of someone's ice cream cone when they weren't looking (40 calories), and what I can only describe as "mystery meat" from under a seat that I didn't see until it was too late (who knows, let's call it 100 calories). Total: 220 calories. In one inning. For a 40-pound dog that needed 800 calories per day. That's 27 percent of his daily budget. In 20 minutes.
I spent the rest of the game in a state of constant vigilance. Every vendor was an enemy. Every dropped food item was a landmine. Every child with a hot dog was a threat. I didn't watch a single pitch. I watched Dash. And Dash watched food. It was the most stressful baseball game I've ever attended. And I've been to games where the Mariners were losing by 10 runs.
Here's what I've learned since then. If you're taking your dog to a public event, you need a plan. Not a vague intention. A plan. Step one: feed them a full meal before you leave. A hungry dog at a food event is a disaster waiting to happen. Step two: bring their own treats. Boring, low-calorie, measured treats. Not the good stuff. The boring stuff. Step three: keep them on a short leash. Not for their safety. For your sanity. Step four: accept that you will not enjoy the event the way you used to. You're not there for the game. You're there for the dog. And that's okay.
Last summer, I took Murphy to a street fair in Portland. I followed my own rules. He ate before we left. I brought carrot sticks. He was on a 4-foot leash. And I spent the entire fair watching him instead of the vendors. He ate zero unplanned calories. I ate zero fair food because I was too busy watching him. We both went home hungry and proud. It was the best fair I've ever been to.
—Megan (currently on my third cup of coffee because writing this made me tired)
