Bat Dog to the Rescue!

Dear Prospect Park Rangers,

I hope this letter finds you well, wherever it may find you. I'm writing to offer my dog's services to your park enforcement team. Once you see Bat Dog in action, I'm sure you'll be thrilled to add her to your crew!

As it turns out, you've actually met her, though not at her fullest glory. She was the pup who was going nuts over her stick this morning, at 9:00:08 am, when you attempted to ticket me for an off leash dog? I know it might be hard to recall, as there were so many other dogs around at that precise moment, their owners leading them off the field in every other direction, but I was the one who told you I didn't have any ID on me and then blatantly ignored your calls of

"Miss! Miss!" as I finally leashed my dog and exited up [ABOVE: Bat Dog on patrol] towards Grand Army Plaza? You must remember, because you gave chase, you know, in your toy-cop SUV? I believe you also threatened me with a summons, promising I'd get one next time? But I digress!

Believe it or not, I'm really writing in an effort to help you guys. We're all on the same side, after all. I love Prospect Park! I spend anywhere from 2 to 5 hours in it EVERY DAY of the year. I tell my friends and family how amazing it is. I carry extra dog poop bags. I pick up trash. I stop for bikers and baby strollers. I scold my dog for chasing squirrels. And best of all, Bat Dog and I are making it a safer place for everyone!

I've often looked for you early in the morning, or later in the afternoon, for instance, when some sketchball threatens the peace and safety of park pedestrians around them. On these occasions, I've assumed you were busy, cleaning up some of the used condoms or empty injection cartridges Bat Dog sniffs out while romping in her unregulated glory. But then, these piles seem to stay undisturbed. Don't worry though, while you're waiting in that really long Dunkin Donuts line, or working your gut out from under the steering wheel, Bat Dog's got your back.

Take last weekend for instance, Bat Dog and I teamed up to frighten a tall man in a grey hooded "NEVADA 22" sweatshirt into putting his penis back in his pants. It was really amazing. You shoulda been there! The man was just off the path from the Long Meadow into the woods, one hand stroking himself, when we approached. Bat Dog immediately barked, crashing in the trees around the man in loud circles. The man appeared unfazed until I informed him that he might want to put "it" back in his pants as Bat Dog liked to bite those off. Within moments, his offensive behavior came to a halt and Bat Dog and I left to find you. But alas, we found no such help, and left the park to perform our next act of public service.

As you can see, Bat Dog, acting without any badge of her own, has already made great strides towards a model for park stewardship. If your visions are as grand as mine, I have no doubt that we can make Prospect Park a better place for both men and women as well as their best friends.

I look forward to hearing back from you.

Most Sincerely,

J.R.D. & Bad Dog

Knock Out: Boxer gives woman a black eye

Sunday, August 17, 2:48 am, Union street

There's nothing like waking up for Sunday Brunch with a black eye. The only thing better is telling people that you got it from your dog, the Boxer, whose face you fell into at 3 o'clock in the morning.

See, everyone's heard that people in glass houses shouldn't throw stones. And everyone (trust me, I've heard them all) tells you that people in small New York City apartments shouldn't own big dogs. But the reasons they cite (exercise, busy schedules, excessive summer heat) usually preclude your dog suddenly becoming a hazardous object.

Having moved close to a giant park, invested in an oval-oscillating fan (not just side-to-side, but up-and-down), and added ice cubes to Myla's water bowl, I've so far managed to maintain Big-Dog-Big-City Harmony. The problem has come with the position of the animal's large, sprawled body relative to this particular woman's slightly-unsteady, heel-clad feet. When you collide, which is inevitable, there's nowhere to fall but into an exposed-brick wall or onto them (perhaps being so lucky as to smash your eyebrow straight into their knuckle head).