It is a profound dislike for cots and plastic trays of indistinguishable food substances that keeps me on the right side of the law. So, when my husband, Chris, and I were enjoying our usual stroll in the park, it was not our intention to deviate from the law or cause a security-related scandal. We were simply taking our dog, a mild-mannered border collie, for his necessary exercise.

Those who are familiar with such matters know that the dog’s jaunt typically involves several leg-lifts over flowerbeds and the occasional bowel movement artfully distributed on a patch of grass.

And such was the scene on this fateful day. Several people stood by, watching in amusement, as our pooch paddled around. It’s important to note that he was still on a leash, thereby dismissing fears that he might suddenly descend into a rabid canine frenzy and sink his teeth into a nearby tourist.

As it would happen, mere seconds later, a uniformed man would appear, panting and twitching in an apparent canine frenzy of his own. He glared at us with loathing and disbelief as though, right at that moment, we were engaging in a mid-afternoon satanic orgy in the midst of a children’s science fair. His mouth began to move, but I could only stare in fear at the sty that dangled precariously from his left eye like an overripe fruit ready to drop to the burning pavement.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked, still staring and twitching with contempt.

“Letting my dog swim,” Chris simply replied. It certainly seemed innocent enough.

“You can’t do that.”

“There are no signs posted.”

“Well, there are no signs posted that say, ‘Do not murder,’ but we don’t do that do we? It’s just common sense.”

We blinked, hoping that the angry man and his sty were putting us on. But, no. Evidently allowing a dog to take a swim in a pond is akin to hiring John Wayne Gacy to make balloon animals at your toddler’s birthday party. I had, it seemed, forgotten the less popular Eleventh Commandment, Thou Shalt Not Let Thy Dog Swim in Park Pond. Is it possible that the New Testament skipped it?

We had committed a vile and unforgivable act that had, most certainly, put us on the short list to Hades. So, with the uniformed man and his sty looking on, we pulled our dampened dog out of the water and promised to repent. Our clever enforcer got into his truck and followed us until we were off of the park grounds, and rightly so, for who could tell what kind of depravity we might yet have planned?

The ordeal did force me to ponder the question: Just where is security when there are real threats at large? I spend a lot of time at Balboa Park because I work there. Most nights I am faced with a solitary walk through the grounds. Yet, never have I spied a security guard when their presence might actually provide me with a sense of security.

What I do see are vagrants who lurk behind bushes and sit on the lawn, mumbling incoherently and scratching their unmentionables in the moonlight. Is it unreasonable to feel threatened by this? Am I to assume that they are completely harmless and that I am safe to walk through the park alone at night? Has the Department of Homeland Security given them thorough background checks? Are they undercover security guards, perhaps? Just whose safety is being actively secured here?

Now, I do not begrudge these people for their lack of homes. They need a place to sleep too. But, certainly, I have a right to walk from work to the bus stop without constantly looking over my shoulder. Is it the overwhelming liberal fear of offending the ‘underprivileged’ that keeps us from saying anything? Are we just letting those sleeping dogs lie on the park lawn because we don’t want to be perceived as unsympathetic?

Last I checked, darkened park corners were ideal spots for horrible acts of violence against women. But, who has time to worry about such trivialities when, just around the corner, there might be a pup undermining social order by cooling his paws in a pond?

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