Drama at the dog park (or, Humphrey in the dog house)

My daughters' school bus stop is adjacent to the local dog park. It's not a full-time dog park, just a place where people are permitted to run their dogs off-leash between 6 and 9 in the morning. The rest of the time it is a football pitch, a baseball diamond, a basketball court, and a play area... and a footpath, a community garden, and a picnic spot. It's only a few acres, but there isn't much spare land in Cambridge so things need to be multi-functional.

The dog walking community is a strange complex breed. The dogs are, on the whole, fairly similar but there are some weird and wonderful humans hanging onto those dog-less leashes on weekday mornings. We used to watch them from afar, but now we have The Truff we find that we have been welcomed into the community. I know a few of the owners, The Truff plays with a few of the dogs, and Iola tries to sit upon Humphrey. Ahhh, Humphrey - love of Iola's life.

When I was a child, my best friend was a girl called Zoe who had a bloodhound called Blue. I adored them both. We were reading the Famous Five books together at that time and Zoe became George and Blue was, in our minds, Timmy. He was the biggest dog I could ever have imagined: larger than the pony that I rode at the local park. Most things seem bigger in childhood: it's the way that our minds work, but Humphrey is bigger than my remembered Blue. I'm reading the Famous Five books to my own girls now and Iola imagines that Timmy is Humphrey: colossal and kind and willing to be sat upon and mauled at the slightest opportunity. Sadly, not everyone sees Humphrey in the same way.

There is a woman - I am sure that she would prefer that I called her a 'lady' - who visits the dog park with her two dogs. She is often accompanied by her cat. It's a nice cat, but it is very cat-like... it is not, for example, trying to disguise itself as a dog. Which would probably be the wisest course of action if one was a cat and visiting the local dog park during off-leash hours. At the weekend, Humphrey saw the cat doing its cat thing and, being a dog, chased the cat. Unfortunately, Humphrey caught the cat and there was a tussle. The cat escaped uninjured and Humphrey was reprimanded by his owners. The woman was, understandably, very upset.

Yesterday, I bumped into that same cat-walking woman. She was loudly proclaiming to all who would listen that Humphrey was a vicious dog who should be euthanized.
'Humphrey?' I asked, incredulously. 'But he's my daughter's best friend.'
The previous night Iola had been designing a boat which would carry her and Humphrey to Kirrin Island. There isn't space for a lake in our multi-functioning dog park, but Iola has a good imagination.
'Vicious,' spat the woman through a very lady-like mohair scarf.
'What has he done?' I asked.
'Nearly killed my cat.'
'That's terrible,' I said, and I meant every word. We once had a cat called Wide-Eyed Jefferson who was killed by a dog. It was a horrible thing to witness. No-one wants to see that side of a dog's nature. 'Is your cat alright?'
'The dog's owners have paid for me to see three vets and each one thinks that he's alright, but I don't think he is. He's very upset and won't come on walks with me. I'm going to take him to another vet this afternoon.'
I made consoling noises.
'And their dog attacks dogs!'
'Really?' I visualized Humphrey as I had last seen him. The Truff and he were chasing a ball. The Truff wanted the ball more than Humphrey and snatched it from his mouth. Humphrey is three times the size of The Truff. He'd done a kind of doggy-shrug and had come back to play with Iola, who was telling him what kind of picnics they'd share in the summer.
'And he attacks children!'
I don't know the polite way to call someone a liar in company. If we were in a politics in New England it would be acceptable to be offensive and say all kinds of things, but at half past eight in a morning in a dog park... I was, unusually for me, lost for words. 'Are you sure?' I mumbled.
The woman nodded sagely while people all about us looked shocked. 'He attacked a baby in a baby carriage.'
'Really?'
'Well, he took a toddler's hat.'
'So he didn't attack the baby.' I wasn't disagreeing. I was just trying to understand.
'It must have seemed like that to the mother.'
'But he wasn't being vicious? He hasn't attacked any other children?'
The woman bristled in umbrage and a look of confusion moved through the audience. I agreed that it must have been a terrible thing to happen and I agreed that the dog should be better controlled, but I stressed that we shouldn't accuse dogs of viciously attacking children if that wasn't really the case. Quite a few of the local dogs steal mittens and hats and toys - personally, I think it's reprehensible and the dogs should be better trained, but I wouldn't equate the behavior with viciousness.

I take the safety of my children seriously and I take my responsibility as a dog owner seriously, but I was completely unsettled that Humphrey was being accused of being a vicious dog. Not knowing what else to do, I telephoned the Animal Control Administrators. They were pleased to hear from me. The mohaired cat-walking woman had made an allegation that Humphrey was a vicious dangerous dog. There is going to be a formal hearing to decide whether he will need to be euthanized. The mohaired cat-walking woman has made a lot of claims against Humphrey which, in the spirit of transparent bureaucracy, the Animal Control Administrator was willing to share.

I talked to Iola about all of this. I explained that it's not just children who tell fibs. Maya nodded sagely - she's studying diplomatic relations between the US and Syria at the moment and knows that there are far too many grown-ups on both sides who can't manage to tell the truth. Iola thought for a few moment and then compared it to the  man who wanted to be president saying horrible things about the woman who lives down the road (I think she meant Elizabeth Warren, but names aren't that important when you're 6). I told her that I had talked to the 'dog cops' and that they were keen to hear from people who knew Humphrey and who knew that he wasn't a dangerous dog. I couldn't tell  her that it would be ok, because I don't know if it will be, but I told her that we could tell the dog cops the things that we knew to be true about Humphrey. Iola thought long and hard: the kind of thinking that makes you screw up your eyes and wrinkle your nose.

And so, in the ridiculously cold New England temperatures this morning, Iola demanded that we arrive at the dog park half an hour early. She introduced herself to the other dog walkers and she told them that Humphrey was her friend. She told them that if Humphrey had played nicely with their dog, they should call the dog cops and tell them. She told them that Humphrey wasn't nasty to children because, if he was, he wouldn't be her friend. She was extremely articulate and extremely persuasive. Maya stood in the background, keeping an eye on things. She likes mercy missions. As usual, she was taking the side of the underdog.