leashed likely to succeed

let me begin my stay in rantarctica by stating that i am a statistic. at age seven i was dragged around the neighborhood by a bullmastiff pitbull. 50 stitches to the head. (yes, it explains a lot, but let’s not dwell there just yet.) three trips to the hospital. a shaved, punk-rock hairdo before pre-teendom. yeah, that was me. so, as much as i love the big dogs, when i see an unleashed pit bull running toward me and my tiny snack-terrier mix, yeah, the fear dial hovers around 11.

and i know you think that you’re being cute by naming your giant dog “flopsy” or “mouse,” but it doesn’t change the fact that dogs are, well, say it with me, animals. like people, also animals, they need tending to…guidance…dare i say…training. and because dogs can be “SQUIRREL!” a tiny little bit “CAT!” oh let’s say “MAILMAN!” predictably unpredictable, we now have this incredibly handy societal tool called laws. it guards against anarchy, which, you know, sounds great when you’re discovering The Germs or how handy safety pins are, but when your frontal lobe fully develops, you tend to realize that rules exist for a reason. by all means, rebel away, just please do it a) with art or b) somewhere else. please don’t do it against the leash law. (and for the record, i don’t have a bias against large dogs. i love large dogs. i just don’t love strange, unattended large dogs bounding toward me while i’m trying to pick up poop.)

one, two, three, FOUR times in the past week my dog and i have been unpleasantly surprised by unleashed large dogs and their equally “surprised” humans. “i’ve been walking her this way for two years.” oh really, then you have been incredibly lucky for 730 days. congratulations! i’ll see you at the vet with your bleeding dog because you are stupid.

during another incident, a stupid human’s dogs were bounding across the street totally unsupervised. but that’s okay because he’d left his front door wide open, which is great because even then he was nowhere to be found while his dogs were following me and my “meaty morsel” of a terrier up the street and narrowly escaping Escalades. awesome! your dogs could die while your smoking a j in the backyard. go darwin!

don’t get me started on the woman who replied (after i explained that her dog was found sitting in the middle of the street and would have been hit had i not intervened) by saying, “oh, she’s already been hit once.” and you? how many times have you been hit BY THE STELLARLY DUMB STICK?!

sigh, as much as these people infuriate me, i do not report them. their dogs can’t help the fact that they have asshats for owners. and with the three-day shelter law looming, i can’t bring myself to doom a creature to certain death, though their owners are playing a kind of russian roulette with their lives. each time i just unleash a tide of expletives in my mind, say something slightly more diplomatic to try and spark a rational thought in these people, and think to myself, “at least it wasn’t today.”

i leave you with this: i know you think you know your dog. i know you think your voice will be able to overpower your dog’s urge to run across the street to smell another dog’s butt. but i tell you this once and for all: NOTHING IS STRONGER THAN YOUR DOG’S URGE TO SMELL ANOTHER DOG’S BUTT!

so, please, law up and leash up.

i carry pepper spray, and if i ever have to use it, it won’t be on the dog.

~char out

p.s. there are these amazing places littered throughout the city where dogs can run free, able to smell as many butts as they want for as long as they want. there are usually even places to hang these dreaded “leashes” blech! they are even enclosed. and–miraculously–there are NO CARS allowed inside. it’s almost as if these places were specifically designed for canine play. they are called DOG PARKS! if you hate leashes; please learn to love dog parks. your not bleeding, soon-to-be-dead dog; your not sued, soon-to-be leaving you spouse; and your not mauled, soon-to-be ranting you into oblivion neighbor thank you. PAWS UP!