Dog Walking

This is a challenging topic for me to discuss. Not for emotional reasons. I’ve just never had a dog. Nonetheless I have laid down my title and I intend to follow through. So I shall rely on my experience and knowledge about other people’s dogs.

My parents never got a dog because two young boy’s produced ample mess between us. However, my late grandparents did have a dog. I don’t remember him that well but even after that dog passed away my grandfather often walked his neighbour’s dogs. On his daily lap of the park he bumped into other dog walkers and got to know some of them. In this way I suppose dog walking helps build companionship and not just with the dogs. However cute they may be. I’m lucky enough to live next to a popular forest footpath so I see a lot of dog walkers going about their day. From my bedroom window I can see anyone who passes by, including any attachments of dogs. Some have many dogs, some only one. Some dogs have coats so fluffy they might be sheep. Some wear fashionable tartan jackets.

Unfortunately all of these pleasantries can often distract us from the uglier side of dog walking: aggressive dogs. Small dogs especially are vicious creatures. I have seen many larger dogs and the worse thing that a big dog ever did to me was licking me. Right across my face. 8 year old me was terrified. My mother was concerned over the risks of poor hygiene. My grandmother was heartily amused. My unease around dogs is still there but overall the dog was harmless. Small dogs pose quite another threat. I shall recount one of my many traumatic encounters with these hellish fur balls. There I was cycling calmly down a path when in the distance an elderly couple appeared, fur demon in tow. Having evolved over generations for life in the handbag this beast was clearly thrown by its unfamiliar setting. This had clearly awoken something deep down in the dog’s most primal instincts. Surprised to see a lanky teenager swiftly approaching him, this alpha chihuahua quickly resolved to retaliate against this clear threat. He launched forwards, sprinting up towards me. The elderly man, one of the dog walkers, called out but the dog dismissed him. He was the alpha of this pack and no beta dog would tell him what to do. Now just a blur he kept on coming at me, a growling noise revving up from its stomach. Closer and closer it got, a great plume of dust following in its wake until it was close enough for me to see into his eyes and…

The fucker bit me. Right through my jeans.

Moral of the story: muzzle your chihuahuas, folks.

Like what you read? Give Thomas Morris a round of applause.

From a quick cheer to a standing ovation, clap to show how much you enjoyed this story.