I spoke up

See this dog? Imagine a dog that looks like this, that's as tall as your waist. Imagine he weighs about 150 pounds. Now imagine riding your bike down your own road early one fine morning, on the last day of June, in fact, while being chased within an inch of your tires and barked at by FOUR of them. Plus a Schipperke! All while their elderly owner, in an orange nightgown and carrying not a single leash, stands by the side of the road yelling, "Come back! Come back!"

This is a scenario I no longer have to imagine, because I lived it. Our neighbor (the lady in the nightgown) has made a habit of walking these enormous dogs off-leash down our road for years. They wander into our yard, leaving enormous piles of you-know-what and causing our dogs – safely restrained within the confines of our securely fenced back yard – to go completely apeshit. It causes Mr. A to go a little apeshit too. He hates the dogs, and the woman, and every time they go by our dogs freak out and Mr. A gets mad all over again.

Until today, I've responded by defending them. "Aw, she's just a little old lady, and they're really nice dogs – Newfoundlands are known for their gentleness!* It's probably one of the only pleasures she has left in her old age! She's just a nice old lady who wants to take her dogs for a walk. Etc. etc.!"

"No she isn't," he is likely to respond. "She's an asshole and she needs to get those dogs on a *@$& leash or keep them at home."

Well, today I joined him in his opinion. Not only that, I confronted her about it! When the dogs kept chasing and chasing and chasing me, I finally turned around and rode back toward her. They followed me, of course, and as I rode up I could see she thought I was just doing her a favor by bringing her her dogs back.

"You need to control these dogs," I said. "They just chased me halfway down the street! They're supposed to be on leash – it's a county law."

"They're under voice control!" she replied.

[I have read in dog columns and magazines about people who say this when their out-of-control dogs do something they're not supposed to do, but this is the first time I've ever actually heard it myself. Unbelievable!]

"No they're not!" I said, incredulously. "They just chased me fifty yards down the road while you stood here shouting for them to come back! They're not under your control at all."

"Well, we're almost home," she said.

"Listen to me," I interrupted. "Your dogs are not allowed to chase people. I see you out here all the time with these dogs off leash and out of control, and I don't want to see it again. You need to keep them on a leash, or keep them at home." (Thanks, Mr. A, for supplying a ready-made script for a moment in which I surely would otherwise have thought of the right thing to say only hours later, after it was too late.)

She keeps protesting, while trying to gather the dogs around her – the dogs are all excited now and don't want to be corralled – and I rode off, saying, "That was totally uncool, what just happened. Next time I see you out here with these dogs off-leash, I'm calling animal control."

That was kind of a stupid thing to say, especially since I already know animal control won't do anything. What I should have done, had I thought of it, was take a picture of her and all five dogs out in the middle of the road with no leashes and no help, as proof that she's creating a public menace. I had the camera right in my bag and everything! Next time I will be prepared.

So yeah, I'm all full of adrenalin this morning. Not that I ever felt like I was in any real danger. They're not very well socialized dogs, but I didn't have the impression they were vicious or wanting to seriously attack me – they were probably just excited to have something fast to chase for a change. Then again, you never really know what dogs will do when they get all pumped up with the hunting instinct – I've seen even my darling, gentle Taterman turn into a totally different kind of animal when a fight erupts at the dog park. My normally shy, retiring friend gets all stiff and rigid in his legs and shoulders, his hair stands straight up along his spine, his lips pull back to expose ferocious fangs like that creature in Alien, and he starts jockeying for position along the edge of the fray. It's a terrible sight to behold!

FYI, when that happens, what you're supposed to do is walk up behind your dog and grab him firmly by the base of the tail, right next to his body, and drag him away from the group. Don't grab further up the tail, or you could break it – also, the farther away from his body you get, the easier it is for him to turn around and bite you. If your hand is right next to his body, he can't curl around enough to get at you. Anyway, that's what my book said, and it worked for me that day at the dog park.

Urgh. Irresponsible people like this neighbor are the reason why responsible people like me are not allowed to bring dogs to so many places these days. Maybe I need to write an article about this (I am currently working on a series about how to encourage people to ride bikes instead of driving). But the irresponsible people don't care about what they read in the paper – if they even read the paper at all. If they cared, they wouldn't be doing all that stuff in the first place.

Anyway, I'm fine, I didn't get bitten, I wasn't even anxious about it until afterwards, and I'm proud of myself for speaking my mind to that lady instead of just riding away. I'm also going to go ahead and call animal control, just to see what they recommend. I don't want to repeat this experience.

*As a bonus to anyone who's read this far, looking for the asterisk – did you know that Newfoundlands are closely related to Saint Bernards? Yeah, I'm talking about CUJO! This is what I'm up against in my neck of the woods. Click the picture to see a full-size photo of the monster himself, in all his drooly glory (plus a hot illustration featuring Dee Wallace's thigh!).