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Dogs take over staff pool

Complete mayhem broke out on the grounds of the park abutting the Goliard offices on a recent weekend morning and a ruckus of epic proportions ensued on what should have been a quiet fall Saturday. The facts are as follows: As staff members were peaceably sleeping in after a long night in the newsroom and the effects of the libations, bickering, and philosophical differences that typically flow there around deadline time, the area dogs, under the cover of the early hour, infiltrated the adjacent swimming pool and took over the place before anyone even noticed what was happening. Staffers that reside in the Goliard compound awakened to a cacophony of yelps and baying the likes of which have not been heard since a huge parade of cats, squirrels, and laboratory rats passed through the neighborhood during a recent PETA rally.

The final breach of security in this case apparently occurred just after seven in the a.m., historically a time when many dog owners blearily stumble to a back door, free their pooches into the yard, and hobble stiffly back to bed. On this occasion however, many of the same old neighborhood dogs were intent on trying a new trick and instead of just scruffing out to urinate and bask in the morning sun, a bunch of them used the opportunity to navigate out of their own fences, slip down the easements and byways, and convene near the pool gates. From what we can now ascertain from reports on the ground and the testimony of the staff Newfoundlands who, being too big to care whether they're considered narcs or not, provided insight into what must have gone down, the aquatic coup had been in the planning stages for quite some time. Evidently the brain trust of the group, a pentavarate consisting of two schnauzers, a border collie, and two of the Irish Beagle brothers, had kept the scheme on the drawing board and the down low through the summer months with the idea being that since the pool is getting colder now and seeing less and less human use during this fall season, pool patrons wouldn't be that upset with an impromptu dog splash and therefore not as motivated to mete out the rolled up newspapers when the whole thing was inevitably discovered. 

We at the Goliard are of the mind however that if the festive barking and splashing about that brought us to the windows to witness this scene of complete canine revelry going on below the other morning was any measure of the enthusiasm that such an event could generate, we can only recommended that it be considered for community sanctioning in the future. Of course it was clear that not all dogs that participated actually got wet and the element of mischief could be part of the attraction for many of the animals since a casual observance of the goings on indicated that many of the most vocal participants seemed to be afraid of the water. These periphery dwellers perhaps cared more for the camaraderie and sense of being part of a cause then actually doing any swimming but the distinction escapes us since, if such an event, whether centered around a pool or not, can breed neighborhood spirit and curtail some of the gruff behavior amongst the canine community as they and their masters go on nightly walks, we at the Goliard feel that it might be something well worth our sponsorship. We have appointed a committee that will initiate plans to provide human input and serve as dog liaison to help iron out details of the collaboration in coming years.

On the morning in question however, investigators were first called to look into the situation by old man Clampett who lives on the corner and, no matter the season, braves the morning chill for a quotidian trip to the natatorium. Clampett, a meddling fussbudget who has a cantankerous relationship with many of his neighbors and their dogs already, reportedly stood agape at the gate for some moments after discovering the scene before becoming apoplexic and careening around knocking on doors while almost literally frothing at the gums with irritation and belligerence. Apparently he'd waddled down the block like he always does in his ratty bathrobe to find the normally unoccupied pool chock full of dogs playing retrieving games and having splash fights. As one who has had a long standing problem with the proximity of the Goliard offices to his condo in the first place and has filed more that one formal complaint about the sometimes unseemly characters that darken the publication's doors, Clampett was initially sure that the Goliard itself was behind this latest debacle and implored the authorities to determine as much and take steps to shut the operation down. This fell on deaf ears fortunately since the chief himself relies on the Movieman's words when deciding what he and the wife should rent at the video store and many other on the crew are avid subscribers and some even contributors. Needing to stick to protocol and appear at least to be concerned about Clampett's charges however, the team broke out their equipment and began canvassing the neighborhood and conducting interviews. 

What the investigators eventually determined was that a neighborhood vizla of unknown ownership and seen wearing a bandana collar with no tags, had been doing some digging recently and had cultivated a hole near the back side of the outer fence for no apparent reason. The theory soon became that she must have returned under the cover of night and finally broken through to pop up inside to the pool proper some time around dawn. A rescue greyhound from an adjacent block (shown at right enjoying the fruits of her labors) was then called to slither through behind her and this resourceful former racing star reportedly stood to her full height and tripped the latch with a forepaw which allowed an inner circle phalanx of neighborhood dogs from down the alley and across the street, all who had been waiting excitedly on the other side tittering with anticipation, to gain access. The gate was then left ajar and it is assumed that word quickly spread through the airwaves via excited yips and yaps up and down the adjacent streets and alleys to the dogs that weren't in on the planning but were still in good standing with the canine community. When it became known that a free swim was in the works, pups of all ages and sizes began finding ways out of their yards and many were soon splashing about frenetically and having a grand day out.  Before long, due to the inexperience of most with the nether configurations of a swimming pool, some were becoming dangerously tired in the deep end. Luckily, the first staffer on the scene was a sympathizer of the aforementioned Newfoundland variety who instinctively plunged right in to lend a guiding jowl to the tiring paddlers by water barging them back over in the direction of the steps so they could exit the pool on under their own power, most only to shake a few times before plunging right back in.

While workmen filled in the hole with concrete and installed new and more secure latches on the gate, the park department supervisors stood by scratching their heads about how to further secure and dog proof the facility. In the mean time, the rest of us had put our own heads together and decided the authorities were barking up the wrong tree and that what actually needed to happen was to make the best of the situation and celebrate what could only be called and impressive display of canine initiative. Goliard brass immediately applied for an alcohol permit and commenced firing up the grill. A keg of fine ale was ordered and delivered and a team dispatched to the local supermarket to secure meats and fishes. Soon the air was resplendent with savory odors and the copious salivating witnessed on the dogs behalf led an observant neighbor to take up collection and offer to go down to Petsmart and pick up a sixty pound bag of kibble and some wet food for flavor along with some rawhide treats to be distributed after the feast. A old wading pool was dragged out and filled with fresh water and placed near the cement pond so the dogs wouldn't lap up as much chlorine and damage their coats. 

Yes a fine time was had by all no matter their age or how many legs they were used to walking on as humans and hounds combined for some inventive and competitive pool games and a quartet of small beagle types preformed an impromptu routine on a floating mat that brought yowls of joy from those gathered. Old man Clampett's threats went almost completely ignored save by Mrs. O'Malley, the widower from behind the curtains across the way, who has long had her watchful eyes on Clampett's ample pension along with all other goings on in the neighborhood. The non crotchety among us however agreed almost to a person and a dog that, due to the events success, what very well might become a yearly tradition had been born. We at the Goliard can only hope that the day will come to represent just another example of a senseless and illicit act later becoming part of the local lore which evolves into something to be celebrated and enjoyed by all for centuries to come. Names for the event are being considered for next year with "Dog Day Afternoon", "Doggin it", "Dogtoberfest", and "Hot Dogs, Old Dogs, New Tricks and Brew Day" being the early front runners.