Praha 49, or, A Lark in the Park, or Gut Shabbes
(written 4/22/07)

Note: I guess I’m boring you all with my political/poetical entries, since none of you seem to have any thoughts on them. Except, of course, my mother, who thinks I’m going a bit nuts (as opposed to…?). Anyway, here’s a nice fluffy entry for you all. Shame on you if you enjoy it more than my actual thoughts/grappling. Just kidding.

Today, was, in short, a good day. I woke up, I broiled an eggplant, I put my laundry away, scrubbed the countertops and went off in search of revelry. I found it in Letna, which is either the name of a neighborhood or the name of a giant hill which overlooks much of Stare Mesto and Josefov (Old Town and the Jewish Quarter). Actually, I first found it in an excellent grocery store, with my friends Jill and Heather, at which we purchased the makings of a picnic – chocolate and wine. And bread, and cheese and all sorts of things that go along with the aforementioned picnic essentials.

We ate in a cluster of picnic tables, half in the sun, half in the shade. I, still recovering from my Budapest sunburn adventures, chose to wrap my shoulders in a flimsy scarf and prop my feet up on the sunny part of the bench. We ate, admired the spectacular view, and generally, well, reveled. There were lots of people out in the park – old people, young people, babies, clothed people, and people in various states of undress…and then there were dogs.

It’s here that I must put in a good word for Czech dogs – they are unlike American dogs in every possible way. Firstly, there are tons of them, even in the very center of the city, where I live. Secondly, I’ve never seen one on a leash. Dogs here are so well-behaved that they are actually permitted to run around free. I’ve never heard of a Czech dog running into traffic, never seen a Czech dog who wasn’t trained to come at a whistle, etc. The list goes on.

It’s also remarkable that neutering dogs isn’t all that popular here – which is startling, in some cases, having come from the US where the medical establishment castrates most domesticated animals the minute they get their hands on them. Yet despite this, I’ve never had a dog jump on me, bark at me, or try to mate with me. It just doesn’t happen! Now if only Czechs could train their dogs to poop in toilets, and not in the path of my shoes, they’d be absolutely perfect.

Anyway, there were tons of dogs running around Letna, which was great. Dogs, like babies, put me in a good mood. I had brought my 648-page reading assignment (due Monday) with me, but the sun was so warm and the dogs were so cute and the wine was so cheap…I confess, I hardly got any work done.

But, I reasoned, it’s Shabbat. G-d is clearly telling me to screw the work and go play with a dog. G-d also advised that I should take a nap in the park, preferably in the middle of someone’s Frisbee game. Oh well. G-d doesn’t know everything, I suppose. But Shabbat was one of Her better ideas, that’s for sure.

(oh, and for the benefit of my parents…don’t worry, I did the reading later)