Dogs Unchained
Yesterday morning I was awakened early and, before I could make coffee, was faced with a young but muscular dog attached to my front deck. Judging from his thick leather collar and the four feet of substantial chain that kept the pooch in place—the last link stuck between the deck’s floor boards—he’d made a great escape to come this far.
My impulse was to take the chain off the collar—maybe dispose of the collar too—and let him run. But the dog was quite defensive. Didn’t want me to get too close.
I offered food and water, backing off to let him eat and drink. He wasn’t hungry, but quenched his thirst. My Tootsie cleaned the food bowl.
I tried talking sweet, eyes cast downward, squatting to his level. But he was scared. Barking. I was likely to get bit if I got too close. So the best I could do was free the link of chain that was stuck in the deck.
I’d thought—very briefly— about calling the dogcatcher, but I didn’t want to send the poor thing to jail for going AWOL. I thought about calling neighbors to see if he belonged to any of them. But I was afraid he might. And I’ve witnessed at least one person in the neighborhood screaming at and physically harming a dog for “misbehaving.” Nope. Let the dog decide. Maybe he’ll choose to go home.
I had misgivings about letting him go, dragging a length of chain—he’ll probably get stuck again.But I couldn’t think what else to do. (Remember, I hadn’t even had a cup of coffee yet.)
Due to community policies and busy roadways, not everybody has the luxury of letting their dogs run free. I get it. And I’m truly grateful Tootsie is not bound by fences or chains. I know she comes home because she chooses to. In fact, she chose to live here in the first place—she followed me home. When I tried to return her to her people, she kept coming back to my house. Finally the people relented, told me her name (They chose “Tootsie”), and allowed the pooch to live with me.
Those people understood. A dog is a sentient being. Has likes and dislikes. And would prefer to make choices unfiltered by human arrogance. We who have thumbs and can manipulate a dog’s world to please ourselves—for whatever reason: Hunting, dogfighting, drug-sniffing, what have you.
I do put my Tootsie on a leash when I take her to town. And she’s fine with it. Loves it, in fact. Until I want to go one way and she wants to go the other. Sometimes while on a walk in the park, she’ll just sit and refuse to go my way. Ultimately I will win, which I am sure she knows, but in the moment she is telling me I am being a butt-head for not letting her decide the direction we are headed.
But when we’re home, Tootsie runs free. She can leave whenever she wants but chooses to stay. She protects me from armadillos and killer squirrels. She’s my best friend.
In my nearly seven decades of living, I’ve rarely met a dog I didn’t like—and I go out of my way to interact with dogs I encounter. But I’ve met quite a few people I choose to steer clear of. I wish dogs could have representatives on the quorum court, so they could have input on the legalities of human interaction with dogs, and maybe be freed from bondage.