Sydney (and we ain't talkin' Australia)

Taking my dog for a walk is like unleashing the dogs of hell. I come home from work today (its been absolutely gorgeous outside), change, get Sydney's leash on and lock the door on our way out. While walking through the neighborhood I run into various friendly folks, many commenting on how cute my dog is. Little do they know. If those same people walked by us a mere 20 minutes later, they wouldn't think her so cute or docile.

At first, Sydney is great. She's enjoying the fresh air, walking at an acceptable pace and behaving nicely. Every good dog owner wants their dog to act respectful in public, as a parent does with a child. What do we think when a child is misbehaving? We blame the parents. So, Sydney represents me well for the first 1/4 of our walk together. Sometime between the 1/4 mark and the end we run into trouble. Maybe its the birds that make her crazy or maybe all the annoying little dogs people walk (that would serve much better purposes as a scooby-snacks for dogs like Sydney). Maybe the internal "Good Dog" clock goes off and she switches to "Demon from Hell" mode. I'm not sure but needless to say, its embarrassing.

When Sydney begins to act up, she walks faster (which may not seem like too much of a big deal, but when a 50 lb. dog starts pulling a 130 lb. woman... we begin to have issues). So, instead of me walking the dog, Sydney is now walking me. As the cars drive by, I'm sure their drivers are amused at the circus going on along the sidewalks of Cowboys and Valley View streets. My arm extended as far as it will go and my stride now lengthened to keep up with the canine, I look ridiculous. But it only gets better because every now and then (from a full gallop, mind you) Sydney will stop dead cold, hunch down in a sort of sitting position and scrap at her face (where her head-collar fits), in an attempt to get it off. In this position, she looks very much like a giant rabbit trying to clean its face after eating some sort of delicious morsel. I'm sure people driving by think, "Damn Fred, thats a mighty big rabbit over yonder." I of course, trip over her every time this hunching rabbit situation occurs, making the scene even more humiliating. You'd think I'd see it coming, but nay, I 'ner do. We repeat this cycle of bumping, tugging, tripping every time we walk.

Sydney's head collar helps our walks immensely because it aids in discipline (believe me, its a lot worse when we use a reagular leash). It works on the same principle as a horse's bit and bridle, but without the bit option. Instead of a bit, there is a small loop that goes around her nose and when I pull the leash, it tightens so that she knows that the behavior she is presenting is unacceptable. If only they made these for kids, right? Anyway, this concept of discipline is ludicrous when walking Sydney during her crazed moods. I try to reinforce her with "Good girl" and "NO ma'am" while at the same times releasing or tightening the tension of the leash. Reinforcing her in tones not audible to those walking their dogs (or significant others) is a challenge and I'm afraid that more often than not, I come off sounding like a lunatic to passersby.

By the time we reach my apartment we are both tired and ready for a cool drink of water. Sydney is now foaming at the mouth (because no matter how many times I tell her, she still insists on choking herself with the leash by walking faster than I am willing to go). People are now running and screaming in terror yelling, "Oh dear God, what is that thing?" as Dogzilla and I end our cement ribboned escapade.

She's a good dog... especially in the evenings when we turn in for bed and she wants to snuggle. It makes up for all the leash-pulling, drool-dripping, arm-wrenched out of socket experiances. And I might add that she is so much better than my last bed buddy (who never wanted to snuggle and thats just a crying shame - and I did cry). Snuggling is fabulous, especially with ones you love. Even if it does happen to be a dog and even if the dog is a public humiliation.