Going to the dogs

Our apartment complex is very pet-friendly. I mentioned that when we moved in, there was a sign on the kitchen island welcoming Tom, Michael, Sundance and Cassidy. In the leasing office, there is a large jar containing dog biscuits. There is a dog-washing station in the heated underground garage in each building. Green posts with baskets holding plastic bags for scooping up dog poop and a container in which to dispose full bags are scattered around the quad and along sidewalks.

We, of course, are blessed with cats. And there may be lots of cats in the complex, but they stay indoors and invisible. The dogs, on the other hand, of which there are many many many, have to be taken outdoors to walk and poop. So we see lots of dogs and their owners walking around, the dogs on long leashes and the owners stopping periodically to pick up what pooch left behind. I have to say that the vast majority of residents are quite conscientious about this. I do see evidence occasionally of negligence, but I suppose that might be from an unaccompanied canine passing through the area. At any rate, when I saw people bundled up and out with the dogs on sub-zero days back in the winter, I thanked the Powers that Be for our cats.

So part of the daily view from the study windows and balcony is the child care center I mentioned before, and another part is the unending dog show. Add in joggers, walkers, children riding bicycles or tricycles or scooters, birds flying over, airplanes departing and arriving at the airport a few miles to the west, giant power-generating windmills on the far horizon, traffic on High Crossing Boulevard and the interstate, wind tossing the flowering crab apple trees that line American Parkway, ducks in the retention pond, people climbing the hill over in Parkway Prairie to sit on the stone benches and look down on the surrounding scenery. And since we face west, amazing sunsets.

All in all, we landed in a pretty good place.

Despite what the cats think.