I sincerely appreciate the idea of my dog having more room to ‘be a dog,’ I, probably more often then she, fantasize of a world where she is free to run and explore but it is simply not safe for her to have more a couple feet of runway.  One objection is purely selfish, as a fifty pounder, the more slack she gets, the more dislocation power should she decide to launch after any number of wildlings. Squirrels.  Squirrels and cats.  And rats. Also gophers. Pretty much anything that runs. I believe my shoulder re-connection surgery was the result of a failed squirrel pursuit. Of course, I accept some of that responsibility because I should have better trained her and I did try, but short of an electrified spiked collar there is no stopping a hunting dog who believes her sole purpose is to obliterate all things that run. I consider it a great victory that she has given up on skunks.

Much to my confusion, she doesn’t want to leave me, she’d never leave me, but she is so very invested in sniffing, she gets lost in her nose.  It’s much the same as you sitting down “for a minute,” and think you’ll just flip one or two screens of social media before getting up to do [unpleasant chore] but before you know it, you’ve lost an hour and [unpleasant chore] goes into day 82 of waiting. That’s a dog’s nose.  They are reading all the trending posts via sniffer. 

It is my responsibility to net nanny my nosey Nancy and the standard five foot leash reduces her opportunities to get her mouth on any number of disgusting sidewalk treasures.  In our years walking the neighborhood I have seen;  gum (sugar free gum is deadly to dogs,) piles of bones – both fish and chicken, chocolate – just last week we had to navigate the sidewalk splattered with a chocolate milkshake. I have seen dead mice, and at a glance I don’t know if they expired from natural causes of if some idiot neighbor has been putting out poison. In an instant she could be nose to nose with a snake and we do occasionally stroll through areas prone to the venomous variety. Heck, with a 5 foot lead she once grabbed and crushed a mole hiding in a pile of leaves with the speed and fluidity of a trained assassin!  I didn’t even know what had happened until she casually dropped it’s lifeless body.  (She’s good, she is damn good!) 

So with all of these thoughts I’m utterly gobsmacked to see so many strangers using retractable leashes when out with their own beloved dogs. I’ve seen large huskies and German shepherds roaming ten feet from their human while said human stares at their phone.  Should that dog bolt, I don’t doubt the handle mechanism would snap and the dog would be off on a tear. I cringe when I see it on the sidewalk because I know, without warning, that dog could find itself under my tire. Even though the law clearly and specifically regulates dogs to a maximum lead length of five feet I usually reserve five lettered external comments when encountered outside.

Of course, there are exceptions to my silence.

Last summer, at a national park I stopped to study the maps and trail info posted on the wall of the visitor center while a Yorkie had snuck up to study me. I had seen the woman and her dog on the bench but I didn’t realize he was on an unlocked retractable leash and in those few minutes he’d danced around my bare ankles winding me up in a synthetic web. The woman looked up from her book just as I happened to look down. I tried to step out of the binds as she was trying to reel him in, all while he danced and wagged. Thankfully it was a small dog and the rope burns only took off a layer or two of skin, had it been a large dog I could’ve lost a foot.

I see these little slipper dogs running 15 feet or more away from their person while hawks circle overhead!  On a popular hiking trail, just after stalking a pair of coyotes, i came upon couple with their dog so far from them I didn’t think he was on any leash.  I warned them that there were coyotes hunting just over the hill and their dog should probably be reeled in a couple feet.  Nope.  They looked at me like I was daft and kept going.  I still wonder if those coyotes got new slippers.

Inside a building I have NO restraint.

I’ve lost count the number of encounters I’ve had at the vets’.  A single retractable leash runs the entire length of the small waiting room but the inconsiderate moron on the handle end doesn’t stop to think that maybe my dog doesn’t want his up her butt. On one visit, with my less friendly dog, I watched as the mom stared at her phone, the small child holding the leash, the dog making his way to my side of the room.  I put my foot up to block him just as a tech entered the room. She swooped in and got the roaming dog up and out of harm’s way then had the audacity to apologize on my behalf.  I loudly corrected her. 

I know, with all my brain, that how other people parent their pets is absolutely none of my business. I am completely agreeable to these terms, but as soon as that dog invades my space – or my dogs’ – I simply will not – cannot – ignore them silently.