On our usual walk in the park yesterday, we came across a lively little golden dog with a lion’s mane and a pointy face, a Chihuahua/Pomeranian cross, as it turned out. S had the most striking blue eyes and flashed them wildly as he lunged towards my dogs, trying to get closer to them.

I’m not sure whether it was me or S’s lady owner who spoke first but she told me that she was keeping her dog on the lead as he just wanted to play with other dogs but that his play often ended in mounting, and that other dog owners had shouted at her for this. Missing her previous 15 year old dog after his death, she had bought S as a five month old pup in the spring, when his previous owners had let her into the garage where he’d obviously been kept for a while when the family had tired of their canine Christmas present. This meant that the new puppy had missed out on the crucial early socialisation period, and indeed any socialisation at all, and had not learned how to behave.

Now as an adolescent, his owner, R, was trying to make up for his early unhappy experience by letting him play off the lead until his mounting incurred the wrath of other dog owners. I’ve heard this before too. “Get your gay dog off him.” “You should have him done.”  I shared my understanding that mounting is about dominance and inclusion rather than sex, and that a lot of people were generally ignorant and awful and don’t do any research before getting a dog, expecting it to be some sort of living cuddly toy without any input rather than a sentient being with its own personality with needs that must be considered carefully. And just like parents of wayward young humans, it’s easier to point the blame at somone else than sit down rationally and figure out what has gone wrong.

R then asked whether she could walk with me and S soon calmed down and trotted along happily with mine and me and Oscar’s buggy as R and I chatted. She told me that she was normally outgoing and chatty but now she walked her dog only with trepidation as she was frightened by the reaction of some dog walkers and at one point shed a few tears when I told her that she looked really anxious. She wanted to persevere with walking S in the park for his sake, to try and give him a better life from now on, but it was bringing her down. S needed the socialisation but got little indulgence from most other owners.

To be fair, R’s dog does not look like a puppy in training so other owners are protecting their own dogs, but how will her dog ever learn good doggy manners if he’s not permitted to socialise with other dogs? It’s such a sad vicious circle.

R and I had both noticed how people walking their dogs are a lot less friendly now than they used to be. Perhaps it’s nervousness about interacting after Covid or perhaps, as I fear, it’s often because their lockdown puppies have not had the opportunity to be properly socialised and have difficulty getting on with other dogs.

Despite having lived in unfriendly Hong Kong for three years, I’m always a bit offended when a dog person here walks straight past me without a smile or a hello, or often without even ackowledging my existence. The social aspect of walking a dog is one of the most life-enhancing parts of dog ownership. 

What I find really heartbreaking though, is when I see these unsociable dog walkers with their earphones in barely interacting with their own dog, who is often at their feet looking up at them desperately trying to establish some communication and waiting for guidance or a loving word. I’ve always chatted and sung to my dogs both at home and on our walks. I don’t care what other people think. We are family.

We came across a couple of other dogs and S became over-excited and snappy  and had to be literally hoiked up by his lead when a female dog his age objected quite strongly to being mounted. This dog’s owner, someone I’d met a few times before, was very kind and tolerant and understood that we were trying to untie a sad beginning for a rescue dog. If only more people were more supportive and less judgmental.

We walked and talked and formed a secure acquaintance before going our seperate ways home. I tell you this story not to make myself out as some paragon: I’m not, but to explain how just a little kindness might have brightened R’s day, and supported her a bit on the long road to S’s rehabilitation.

These are hard times and it felt good to be useful and be able to help in some way.