Oakland Gets A Dog Park, And A Son Fulfills A Vow In Memory Of His Mother

At long last, Oakland got its very own dog park on Mother’s Day weekend, when it officially opened with a ribbon cutting ceremony at the site of the Great Oak Park.

The ceremony drew more than 70 people, an impressive showing considering that it took place in a downpour. But what really compelled most to attend was the remarkable victory the park’s opening marked for one of Oakland’s most committed and active residents--Ryan Schwertfeger, who is 27 years old and spent more than a decade (yes, he started this mission when he was just a kid) working diligently to make such an area for our four-legged loved ones a reality.

For Schwertfeger, the will to continue fighting for the dog park came from wanting to honor his mother, Jill, who came up with the idea for it when her son needed to come up with a proposal for the community service project he needed to graduate from eighth grade at the Valley Middle School.

His mother died of cancer in 2012, which led Ryan to briefly consider giving up his pursuit of a local park where he could take his rescue dog, Scooby. But the overwhelming feeling of wanting to continue the dream his mother had, and to honor her with the establishment of the park—which is named after her-- propelled him to stay the course, even through the ups and downs of navigating the daunting process of getting numerous government approvals.

“It took perseverance, prayer and patience,” says Schwertfeger of sticking with the dream for more than 12 years and, especially, during those moments when it seemed that the park would never materialize. “When I was in the eighth grade and started this, I got 700 signatures on a petition and thought ‘O.K., I’ll bring this to the town and they’ll see all the support this has, so let’s build a dog park!’”

"But there had to be public meetings,” says Schwertfeger, while standing near the dog park (which can be accessed by car via the entrance to Great Oak Park, just off Ramapo Valley Road) about a week after the grand opening. “I had to pitch it to officials, get it approved, raise the funds to build it because there was to be no cost to taxpayers for construction, find another location for it because my initial proposed location across from the First Aid Squad wouldn't work, and then before we could even start, the whole park needed to be cleaned up. There were fallen trees, tall grasses coming through pavement, and other public hazards. From where we are now at the dog park, you originally could stand here and not be able to see anything down the hill into the rest of the park.”
 

At the ceremony, Schwertfeger’s father Dirk spoke about how the dog park journey gave his son an education he never would have gotten in a classroom. Indeed, Schwertfeger cultivated a personal philosophy that has carried him through other aspects of life.

"It gave me the ability to just keep going,” he says. “There are times when you need to stand up for yourself and what you believe is right, and other times when you need to compromise.”

Our town’s new dog park has two sections—one for large dogs and one for small ones. Actually, those categories are not ironclad because, well, dogs don’t always act their size. The signs allow for small dogs who think they’re big and may be a better fit for the bigger dog area, and for elderly dogs who would feel more comfortable in the small dog section because they are more vulnerable.

Schwertfeger also came across a whimsical poster on canine body language that he displayed at the dog park. It offers helpful information on what to watch out for—such as moves that may indicate anxiety or brewing aggression--when dogs are interacting in the park. He says he hasn't seen a sign like this at other dog parks he's visited and hopes park users will take note, read the sign, and help to create a safer environment for everyone.

These days, Schwertfeger frequents the dog park just to welcome its four-legged users and their human parents. Little gratifies him more than to see dogs running around and their owners meeting other owners and forming a whole new community.

“If I show up and there’s nobody, I feel disappointed,” he admits. But those moments are few and far between, and even when they occur, they don’t last long.

As word has spread, more and more people from Oakland and surrounding areas have registered (for an annual fee of $10 for town residents, and $20 for others) for the dog park, and a community of dog park members has even formed on Facebook.

“I can't come today, but I stopped by yesterday and was thrilled to meet 4 new neighbors and their dogs!” wrote one member on the Facebook page. “We had a great time!  thanks for all your hard work. Looking forward to our next visit!”

Another wrote: “Anyone at or going to the park? Ziggy’s coming in about 15 minutes.”

And for Schwertfeger, that’s what it’s all about.

“When I see dogs running around, having fun and even socializing, and their owners too, meeting and talking with other dog owners, I think ‘Oh, that’s more like it! That’s what’s supposed to happen.”

Finally having crossed the finish line, however, has been bittersweet for him.

Neither his mother nor his dog, Scooby, lived to see it. Scooby died at the end of March.

A large poster of his mother with Scooby was prominently displayed at the ribbon-cutting ceremony.

“I think my mom would say that this dog park is very nice,” he says, “and that she would be very proud of me for sticking to it and growing through the process. I don’t know that she would have liked the park being named after her, though. She was involved in town in a behind the scenes way and never sought the spotlight."

"She never was on a town committee or a board and never ran for office," Schwertfeger adds, with the fondness for his mother showing on his face. "But she did many things quietly that impacted the lives of people in Oakland. She took me along to deliver Meals on Wheels, she would make extra of whatever she was cooking for dinner and pick me up from school and we’d deliver meals to families where someone had lost a job or lost a mother or father. She trained Scooby to be a therapy dog so that we could take him to the Oakland Public Library and children who had problems reading or speaking could get comfortable and confident by reading to a dog, Scooby, who wouldn’t judge them.”

“If you knew my mother, I hope it's a place where can remember her," he says. "But this park is also in honor of all the people in town who, like my mom, do things quietly that have an impact on others, but whose names we don’t know. They make this borough work and that's why Oakland is so special.” 

*For more information about the Oakland Dog Park, visit its page on the Oakland Borough website.

This article's author, Elizabeth Llorente, is editor of the borough newsletter and vice chair of the Communications Commission.