Storm is definitely in the “prison yard” camp. He hates the dog park. This is how he spends ninety percent of his time when he’s there. Yes, he’s standing on top of a picnic table.
He doesn’t like that the dog park is dirty. He doesn’t particularly like the other dogs. He doesn’t like that there is a water hose that some people spray their dogs with, which seems like water torture to him. In short, the dog park is a terrible, awful place that he is forced to go to for an hour every day.
Why am I so mean to him? Why does he have to endure such injustice? Because he’s a jerk to the other dogs if he gets bored at home, and the best way to keep him from being bored is to wear his little butt out. Thus two walks a day and the dog park for an hour. It’s hard for me to feel bad for him when lots of dogs don’t get nearly that much exercise. He feels like I’m a heartless monster. Even his beloved Colin won’t save him. He has to go every day to the prison yard.
Above is his open plea for compassion, but I’m not buying what he’s selling.