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I got peed on at the park the other day. I had taken my dogs to the park so they could romp and play with the dogs that other people had brought to the park. We were all standing around chatting and watching our little ones play when Toby, who is a terribly handsome shepherd mix, went behind one of the women, lifted his leg and left his scent. Then, not too long after that, he did the same thing to me.

Men are a mystery to me. In fact, I don’t understand them at all. It occurred to me recently that I understand men about as well as I understand cars. I have a vague idea how they operate, and I know the basics to keep them going: give them fuel and every once in a while grease ’em up. But when they stall out on me, I have no idea how to get them going again.

I’ve never quite understood men. Mostly because, often, even though I see their lips moving I don’t get what’s coming out of their mouths. Even if a man is speaking English, for example, does not in any way mean that I will understand him. And it seems that he will have similar problems understanding me. I suspect this is due to the fact that men and women speak in code.