Skip to main content

Unleash the Hounds

If there’s one thing to get the local community Facebook site worked up, it’s a discussion about dogs. Dogs off lead, dogs on beaches, dogs at parks, dogs on lead, dog poo, dogs on sportsgrounds, dog owners, dogs barking. In fact, one of the reasons I left the local Facebook  page was the passion, and indeed, the nastiness that spewed from people once the topic of our four-legged friends came up. Talk about unleashing the hounds!

 Poo on the pavement? Poo on footy fields? Irresponsible owners? Lack of beaches for dogs? Lack of off-lead parks for dogs? Dogs running through playgrounds or sportsgrounds when they are supposed to be on lead? Dogs in the wildlife reserve, rushing birdlife? By-laws officers enforcing fines? Dead birds, yapping puppies and dog attacks all had a run. All of these topics often drew the most virulent of responses, in some cases leading to insults about peoples’ children and campaigns akin to bullying.

Lucy Battersby’s recent piece suggests that when people visit an on-lead park, it would be reasonable to expect they’d be able to enjoy that space with dogs on-lead. Not so, it seems in her experience. Disdain and abuse are often served up in person to those who suggest a dog should be on-lead. My daughter’s own experiences at on-lead parks when she was three led to her developing a fear of dogs after dogs often ran up to us, off-lead. In her face, lunging at her food, rushing in groups. We chose on-lead parks specifically to avoid such interactions, as I was not well-equipped to manage them, yet they continued at all parks we visited. Speaking up to dog owners was always fraught.

Just because you reckon dogs should be on-lead in the on-lead areas doesn’t mean you are anti-dog. Indeed, as a dog owner myself, my labrador gives me the greatest joy. Perhaps it simply means you value civility, respect for shared spaces, and an acceptance of others’ needs, not just your own. Wouldn’t that make for a happier suburb, and extended across the metropolis, a happier and healthier urban community?

 In the local Facebook community forum, it seems there is no greater insult than to be called ‘anti-dog’. But I’m going back. I have rejoined the local page, to discover shared interests and to get news of local events. Also, of course, for urban foraging purposes (aka scouring hard rubbish for gold.) There, I hope to find the spirit of generosity and caring which are at the heart of a good community, dog lovers and non-dog people alike. Surely we can keep the nastiness on a short lead, and foster connections rather than aggressions. We’re all in this together. Fingers crossed and poo bags at hand.
Leela at St Kilda Botanic Gardens, (c) Anna Sublet

Labels

Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Not smiling, wanking

The bricks were always cold underneath my bum. Cold and hard. I could feel their sharp edges. In the nights we sat and talked. The smells of sour smoke and saliva on one, body odour on another, and menace on the other. The fluorescent globes hummed from the station platform, and the street lights pooled at the corner. Inside was out of bounds to these boys, so we met on our side stairs. The frosted glass door between us and our home. Outside; offside: the limits to friendships. These were the kids we didn’t trust, the boys from the wrong side of the tracks. Where were their parents? Absent fathers, unsighted mothers, these boys roamed the streets and set me on edge. The attraction to the dirt, to the smell of one’s mouth...I can still feel it now. It was an urge, but not an infatuation.  The hearts of these boys remained hidden. It was as if they walked in costumes, played their parts, and kept their distance. We weren’t allowed to welcome them in. One day, my m...
4 comments
Read more

Weaving my own way

In my first weeks of University life, I unzipped a heavy blue bag and found myself bent over a skinny cadaver with a scalpel in my hand. Smelling the formaldehyde. Over the course of the next year, we carved flesh from his buttocks, separated muscle from cartilage, and pulled and probed his ligaments. Lab sessions with the stiffs were fascinating, but I didn’t really want to be doing Medicine. I had never liked biology and was not at all interested in seeing patients with medical needs. So how did I get to be there? Surgery days, pic Anna Sublet It was always expected in our family that we would attend University, preferably to do medicine or law. Coming from a family of parents and grandparents who valued tertiary education, who had been lawyers, doctors, engineers and inventors, this was an unquestioned path. Of course, at the Catholic school, there was also the option of becoming a wife and mother, something seemingly so appalling to me that I rejected such a notion for ...
2 comments
Read more

A morning too early, a morning too late

Sensing  the  future It was our last morning in New York City. It was a morning too early to be leaving, and as it turned out, a morning too late. Dad was on his final lap of life, and we were making a dash home to cheer him along as he hit the home straight .  I went down to breakfast with a heavy heart. The bar was buzzing. Halloween scenes were already playing out in the streets. A kind waiter asked me 'have you got your costume sorted for tonight?' To which I stumbled, 'no...I I I have to go home. My dad's sick...' and began to cry. The dear boy was shocked, 'Oh, I'm so sooorreeee. Do you wanna hug?' I could barely breathe. NO, I managed. I ate cereal alone, and had grapefruit juice. Dad loved grapefruit. I packed the last of my things, and stumbled out through the lobby, past glamorous girls in fabulous costumes. Mark had already run off to explore the neighbourhood after checking out of the hotel early. It didn't seem...
5 comments
Read more