dogs shouldn't be on leads all the time.
Is that it?So today I think I had my worst experience as a dog owner.
Me and the dog went for a lovely walk this morning. Parked at Hove Lagoon and walked to the Palace Pier and back stopping for breakfast at the Meeting Place Cafe on the way back.
So we get to outside Oh So (I think) a bar near the pier. As I walk around the corner I find him eating a huge pile of sick left over from last night!! I am not a happy dog owner!! The place was shut so couldn't moan at anybody but seriously sometimes Brighton is a Shit hole. Ruined an otherwise lovely morning. Rant over.
Feel free to vent your experiences........
all depends on the dog tbh
Really?! He was 5 metres in front of me. You are an idiot. What do you propose? Dogs being kept on leads their whole life.
My dog would shit and then turn around and try to eat it.......and when we were running free in the woods, if she ever found a pile of fox crap - heaven help us - I'd have to hose her off with detergent - for some reason she found the foul mess an alluring perfume to be rolled around in - and ingested. WTF?
Maybe in the case of you and your dog, you should be wearing a muzzle.
My Retriever would run like Forrest Gump, in calipers, when out and about.My Saluki used to run like an effing whippet, not surprising seeing as they were originally bred, surprisingly as sport sled racers in Alaska, anyway I digress. As soon as she was off the lead up in Norfolk she would pelt across the beach. Inevitably returning with fish, rats, rabbits and invariably having rolled in fox shit.
My Retriever would run like Forrest Gump, in calipers, when out and about.
That is right up until the moment he saw a target.
His whole body would drop.
His legs would shorten.
His paws would claw at the ground.
He would turn into a sleek tracer missile.
Absolutely impossible to catch.
The one live rabbit he caught was sat 200-300 foot away in the middle of an open field.
He dropped what was left of it at my feet and collapsed.
He couldn't move for 15 minutes.
My dog sniffed out the lair of a hermit called 'Mad John' (very Ogdens nut gold flake ain't it!) who lived deep in Bedgbury Pinetum. The old boy hollered and screamed and scared the living shit out of me - he hated dogs. As a curious 15 year old I went back the next week and the hermit had moved camp - leaving behind a strange refuse of empty tuna cans bike parts and human excrement - no wonder my dog sniffed him out!