I’m going to update my will. After I’m gone, I want my house leveled and my entire lot turned into a north-end dog park. There will be a ten-foot wrought-iron gate that will span around the entire property. To get in, all dog owners need do is register their dog online, get a key fob from City Hall, and pay an annual fee that will cover upkeep and maintenance. There will be optional separate areas for big dogs and little dogs, in case of potential low self-esteem. A plastic bag supply will always be handy, and plenty of trash cans for dog waste. There will be obstacle courses, and bins of dog toys like ropes and balls and stuffies. There will even be a little receiving area where people can bring reticent dogs, so they can get acclimated before entering the play area. Water stations will be available in the hot summer months, and a little warming hut in the winter where dog owners can relax, have a hot drink and unfreeze their toes while watching their dogs cavort.

And governing over the whole area, a huge pewter statue of my dog Mojo, the fluffy love of my life, who yesterday has been gone for one full year. I miss him just as much now as I did a year ago.

Drawbacks? Yeah, I’m sure there would be a few. The neighbors might not like the smell, as hundreds of dogs produce a lot of waste. The constant barking would be loud, too. But those are two minor drawbacks that do not outweigh the benefits. After all, a dog park would be a fun tourist attraction, and we all know how a resort’s number one priority is making the tourists happy, right? Who cares about the locals and their personal tranquility? Besides, my neighbors have tolerated my three sons terrorizing this neighborhood for 23 years, so more animals running around on the grass and defecating will almost seem redundant.

Or maybe I’ll just will my land to the city to be used for green space. Still fenced-in but not locked, just a little walking and sitting area where people can catch their breath. Maybe a small swing set for children, some sliding boards, a few water fountains, greenery, flowers, maybe a reflecting pool and some babbling birdbaths.  

Sounds idyllic, doesn’t it?

I figure if I will my land to the community, local realtors will stop contacting me about selling it. Where does the collective world of real estate get its information? I know it’s a cutthroat market right now, but just because I blog about crappy Jersey weather doesn’t mean I’m going to sell my children’s childhood home. It is possible, you know, to keep one house, and move somewhere else. Ever hear of snowbirds?

So the question remains: What to do, what to do, what to do with real estate when you have outgrown it but your children haven’t? I was a guest on a New Jersey podcast a few weeks ago on which we discussed this very subject. I’ll share my insights tomorrow, since everyone seems so gosh-darned interested in my real estate situation. I mean, dang.

Until then, the pooper scooper is on me.