As far as romantic circumstances go, the conditions under which they met did not rank very high.

"I'm so sorry," she blushed as she struggled in vain to pull her over-excited mutt off of his large golden retriever. "She's…she's just a puppy and, well, she's picking up on some new…behaviors here."

Arthur laughed, completely unfazed by the encounter. "Can't do much harm, I suppose."

Caught off guard by his response, she choked out a laugh and smiled at him.

"I'm Gwen." She might have held out her hand if she wasn't trying to restrain her dog from mounting his once more.

"Arthur," he nodded to her. "How old is she?" he indicated the shaggy little creature currently squirming in her grasp.

"Six months. This is just her third time here."

"Ah," he smiled knowingly. "She'll have plenty more to learn then. Honestly, I would be a little more worried about keeping them off of her." He raised his eyebrows and Gwen followed his gaze toward a muddle of hounds playing roughly a few yards away, one of which was rather conspicuously still intact.

Gwen stretched the corner of her lips in a yikes face, and Arthur chuckled.

"She'll be fine," he assured her. "Are you planning to get her fixed?"

"Yeah, I'm going to make the appointment soon, I've just got to fit it in with work and all."

Arthur nodded silently, crossing his arms as he watched the animals playing together. His dog was currently rolling on its back in a large plastic tub, and water sloshed messily over the side.

"He's having a good time," Gwen observed with amusement.

An old woman with a fragile looking white dog in her lap gave a disapproving look as a small splash of moisture landed on her sandal-clad foot.

Arthur rolled his eyes, but still smiled. "Can't keep him away from the water. He loves it."

"I can see that," she laughed as the dog stood up and started digging vigorously inside the tub, and the old woman glared deliberately at Arthur before making a big show of getting up and moving away.

He sighed, leaning toward her a bit. "I'll tell you what, you can't be friends with everyone here," he said under his breath.

Gwen giggled as she stood closer to him in camaraderie, watching the old woman as she made her way over to group of owners to direct their attention toward her and Arthur.

"It's a bloody dog park, what do they expect?" Gwen whispered.

"They think it's Greenside; that's what they expect."

Gwen frowned, unsure of what he meant. "Greenside?"

"Greenside Park?" he tried. Seeing no recognition in her face, he continued. "It's a little place on the east side of town where all the elderly people go. Very well manicured, small. Pretty much everyone there has got the same dog," he gestured to the small white dog the old woman was holding. "They don't like having 'big' dogs there; it's frowned upon. Although their concept of 'big' also seems to include black dogs, shaggy dogs, unneutered dogs, and dogs that enjoy any kind of fetching, jumping, or rough playing activity."

"Aha," she said, making a mental note to avoid the place. "Sounds awful."

"If you can imagine, Atticus and I got kicked out within 5 minutes."

"And shame on you for not realizing you'd interrupted the bridge club rendezvous," she replied sarcastically.

He snorted. "Quite right."

"How old is…Atticus?"

"He's almost a year and a half. Old enough to be blacklisted by Briarworth's most distinguished citizens, apparently." Gwen traced his line of sight back to the cluster of senior citizens that were now quite obviously banded together, shooting glares conspicuously in their direction.

"Is it always this clique-y?" she wondered out loud.

"Yep, you can't really avoid it at these places. Come here often enough and you see the same people. Someone's dog growls and suddenly you've rubbed them the wrong way on a deeply personal level."

"And here I thought it was the happiest place on Earth," she mused.

"It is," Arthur said seriously, his wistful smile returning as he watched the dogs at play, tumbling over each other and making dizzying circuits of the park. "It's just the people who bring the politics."

Gwen nodded in agreement.

"Well, someone seems quite determined," he said after a while, and Gwen's eyes sought out her scruffy little companion, who was currently defecating in front of the group of disgruntled elderly owners.

"Oh, shit," she sighed, grabbing her waste bag to make her way over to the offending site.

"Gwen," she heard Arthur call after her, and she turned back to see him attaching a leather lead to his (now heavily soiled) dog's collar. "Welcome to the club," he grinned.

She cracked a small smile in response and watched as he turned to leave, her eyes lingering on his retreating form perhaps a bit longer than necessary.

Squaring her shoulders and lifting her head proudly, she turned back to her task and the slew of unfriendly onlookers.