I pulled into the parking lot a few minutes before practice was over so rolled down my window to enjoy the 62°F weather and cool breeze. Spring baseball only gets five perfect weather days and this was one of them. The ballpark is right next to a dog-walking park filled with everyone and their soggy dog toys and dogs of all shapes and sizes. The dogs were happy to be out today.
A few minutes passed and a father, his wife and their son pulled in to the empty space beside me. Mom took the dog to the park after huffing about it and dad took his three-½ year old son’s little bike out of the trunk. The little boy was so adorable and couldn’t wait to ride his bike. He put his helmet on his gorgeous head of long black curly hair then dad secured the buckle under his chin and off they went to the other park for some training wheel bike riding in the glorious weather.
I sat there waiting and waiting for practice to end, but should have known it would go late because of the perfect temperatures. They played an extra thirty minutes last week and it was snowing, so I shouldn’t have been surprised.
Thirty minutes passed.
The father and his son reappeared at the trunk area of the car but this time, there were tears. I thought perhaps he had fallen and was hurt and was giving up, but that wasn’t the case. He hadn’t followed the rules and rode into the street and wouldn’t get back on the sidewalk so had lost riding privileges. Dad held firm and the bike went back into the trunk but the son held his ground by trying to change his father’s mind with many “pleases,” but dad said no and the helmet went into the trunk too.
This is where the story changes quickly. I should have said something. But what? What should I have said? The wrong words would have come out and have to admit, was a little worried I’d create more problems if I did.
The mother and the boxer returned from the park at the same time. The father said, “Let the dog get in first.” The dog began to move into the backseat at the same time the little boy began to get into the backseat. The mother, still holding on to the dog, grabbed the little boy’s beautiful long black hair in her fist and yanked him out. “Dad said let the dog in first,” she said, and pushed him back away from the dog so the dog could get in. The little boy started to cry and the mother asked, “What? Are you jealous of a dog now?”
I had backed my car into the parking place and sit up high in our car and could have touched them I was so close. I didn’t say anything. The mother, still unaware that I was sitting in my car with the window down, got into the front seat on the other side. When the car backed out, I locked eyes with her when she realized I was watching the entire time. I know I was involuntarily shaking my head at her and she looked down and broke our stare. Was she embarrassed? Was she afraid I’d turn her in? (I did make note of the license plate.)
What should I have done? If I had said something, she may have yelled at the little boy more or turned the dog onto him or myself, his leash still in her hand. It was clear by their actions, the dog was more important. I was completely shocked and am angry with myself for not saying something. I should have said something. But what? What could I have told that mother, who was in a bad mood from the moment she stepped out of the car that would have made a difference? It happened so fast, but I had a moment, there was a moment, where I could have…should have…said something.
Perhaps I will have another chance. I am at that park every day and the same group of people walking their dogs is there everyday as well. Perhaps I will have another chance. Perhaps.
