We are stardust ...

By the time we got to Woodstock, we weren't quite half a million strong, but there were a lot of dogs.

I went to Woodstock today for a puppy play. Woodstock, Va. It was pretty great. It was probably best that one of my friends called and asked if I wanted to go in about an hour. That way my brain did not have time to hem and haw about going, about accessibility, about the long ride or anything else. I just had time to shower and go.

My bad-egg dog had the time of her life. She played for pretty much three hours straight. She is the only dog in this group of dogs, mostly current or former service dogs and trainees, that barks when playing. And she does constantly. I occasionally get a little embarrassed at her joyous barks, but I remember that she is so quiet everywhere else. I have to forgive her because she is with me most of the time -- that's got to leave her with tons to get out of her system. Frankly, I am amazed that she hasn't taken up smoking or something.

I don't have to forgive her for brazenly taking a dip in the fish pool -- twice. The second time, though, I was watching and I think her canine compatriots were egging her on.

Of course, I do forgive her. Claren is probably the best thing that happened to me.

I sometimes am a little jealous of the other official service dog at these gatherings. He doesn't want to play; he just wants to be with his human partner. That would be me in a dog, latching on to one good friend.

Claren, however, has little use for her partner, me, at a puppy play -- there are dogs and balls to chase. I know she loves me, but I imagine she must have been a peppy high school cheerleader in another life. She thinks everyone wants to and should get to know her and her boundless energy.

I guess opposites really do attract.

Even though we didn't quite make it to Yasgur's farm, we are definitely golden.