This morning, Lucy and I got back in the saddle, and did a run as part of my training for the Broad Street Race. Last week, because I was feeling mostly like a Mac Truck brutally sidelined me, we didn’t get in much running (I use this term loosely, because when it references what I do, it mostly means shuffling along and trying to remember to lift my knees and use proper form at a speed that slightly outpaces a fast walk).
We had a nice pace going (once Lucy has ceremoniously evacuated her bowels not once, but three times, resulting in equal hand weights for the first mile of lilac-smelling potty bags filled with … potty) and nearly hit four miles in forty minutes (which would have been excellent). When we crossed the 12 mile marker on the Wissahickon Ribbon trail, we slowed to a walk for cool-down purposes, as well as the fact that there was a quite a monstrous dog approaching, and the big guy didn’t look friendly.
And here I make my **Public Service Announcement** to the dog world.
Yes, I understand that you want to take your pup for a nice walk/job/amble through the woods on a beautiful morning such as today.
Yes, all dogs deserve to stretch their legs in the great outdoors.
Yes, I am sure that deep down, your growling, hair-raised, poised-for-attack dog is really a softy.
But when my over-eager puppy of nearly nine months begins to cower and her back-end starts to uncontrollably shake, it means she’s scared, and your brute of a dog is probably a little overwhelming.
Therefore, dog-owners. Rather than move to the side of the path and allow your dog to jump viciously toward mine with the mere restriction of what I can only imagine MUST be a leash with superpower (otherwise why would you have your attack dog on a public path with no other method of restraint?), perhaps you should err on the side of caution.
Either don’t bring your dog to a public path where he is bound to encounter other dogs, OR take precautionary measures to train, restrain and socialize your pup.
I know you love him. I love my baby girl, too. But you didn’t reprimand or attempt to control your dog as mine walked meekly by, ears flat and body quivering. Considering she’s full of kisses, love and excited wiggles, and despite my extreme bias, I have a hard time believing that her reaction wasn’t at least partially due to your dog’s … erm, enthusiastic? … greeting?
We’re safely home, and the Luce is curled up next her dad and I on the couch. She’s clearly not forever damaged. But I haven’t forgotten our encounter, and I will be on guard the next time we approach the snarling dog of this morning’s walk.
Until then, I’ll focus on my #broadstreet training. #runrunrun!