On a sunny spring morning, I took my dog for a casual walk in a park. This year, the warm weather arrived rather suddenly, and, knowing that it would likely not last long, many people were eager to take heavy winter jackets off and absorb some vitamin D. As I was strolling through the park, different types of persons were passing by: young mothers with carriages; busy-looking men and women with briefcases; an exuberant garbage collector eager to share his jokes with everyone; a few elderly couples; and, finally, some people like me, who were leading their dogs for a walk. The types of dogs, their people, and their leashes, varied greatly. Big dogs and small dogs, men and women, retractable leashes with bulky handles and slippery nylon leashes – a bucolic scene from one of Dr. Seuss’s books.
As we were passing by a black-and-white border collie with an owner holding on to a massive handle of a retractable “flexi” leash, several things had happened simultaneously. A child nearby, whom we meet quite frequently on our walks, threw a stick for my dog to play with. However, the stick flew a little far and spooked the geese, who were also enjoying the sun. The geese took off from the ground with a loud unhappy clucking, triggering prey instincts of all the dogs who were walking in close proximity, including my dog, Orca; a Border Collie whom we were passing by; a Bernese Mountain Dog who was previously lazily sniffing freshly emerging snowdrops; a Golden Retriever who was accompanying an elderly couple; and finally, a little Bichon Frise who immediately went into a barking frenzy. All the dogs were attached to leashes, and so were their owners, but the outcomes of this little incident varied greatly.
I did not see the geese, and Orca’s attempt to chase them took me by surprise. However, I held on to my leash, and Orca, who corrected herself with a strong leash-pop, immediately dropped the idea of pursuing the geese, and went back to picking up her stick. A Border Collie, who was attached to a retractable leash, pulled suddenly and with a great force, and the leash snapped in half, letting the dog loose. A hundred-pound Bernese Mountain Dog pulled on his slippery nylon leash so hard that the owner could not hold it any longer and just let it go. A Golden Retriever, who was clearly in his senior years, just like his owners, and who was attached to a very thin leather leash, made an attempt to go after geese, but then thought again, perhaps considering his arthritis and back pains, and remained close to his fragile humans. And finally, the owner of Bichon Frise simply picked up their barking dog and removed it from the scene completely. We, the participants of this little unintentional vaudeville, both humans and animals, were all attached to leashes. How is it that some of the leashes were successful in performing the work they were supposed to do, while others failed, and yet others seemed to be not needed at all?
To consider this question further, it would be helpful to think about each particular example. My biothane-beta leash was made for situations like that. It is tacky and durable, and only requires that I pay attention and strengthen my grip from time to time. A retractable leash, also affectionately known as “flexi” leash, is often disliked by dog trainers as a tool that seems to be vastly misused by the general population. Retractable leashes can be helpful in recall training; however, the bulky handle and very thin, almost razor-sharp line which represents the leash and retracts at its owner’s will, is extremely hard to manipulate. Moreover, regardless of a manufacturer’s claims, they are not suited for restraining an adult dog that weighs more than thirty pounds, as they break and snap easily. Finally, a nylon leash is extremely slippery and is impossible to hold on to without special gloves that prevent burns and cuts. These three examples of different leashes are pretty straightforward and explain the outcome of the situation described above mostly in terms of what the leashes were made of. However, in the last two examples things seem to be far more complicated.
A senior Golden Retriever was attached to a thin leather leash tied to a walker which an elderly lady was holding on to. It is obvious that such a use of leash is pretty colloquial and presupposes that the dog is well-trained, good-mannered, and can control its impulses really well. One wrong movement of a dog could result in a great pain for its owners. And yet, as informal and symbolic as this leash looked, it still provided a certain barrier which a dog knew to not pass. In a case with the geese, the dog made a couple of steps to the side, gently hit the end of its leash, and quickly changed its mind and went back into an initial “heel” position. It is hard to pinpoint what such a behaviour indicates: it could be that this dog underwent some rigorous training; or that it naturally has a much lower prey drive than other participant; finally, it could simply point to its elderly age and lower energy levels. No matter what the case is, the leash did what it was supposed to do: it led this dog. Not in a forceful way, as was the case with me and Orca; but rather in a suggestive way that gently reminds an animal that it needs to follow its owners.
Finally, a little Bichon Frise was attached to a leash which is often stereotypically associated with the small fluffy dogs: the one that is encrusted with sparkly stones that resemble diamonds and that is attached to a matching harness. Such a set-up – a leash plus a harness instead of a collar – is often given preference to among small dog owners due to an existing misconception that links the use of collars and animal abuse. In a way, this case was the most curious, because the owner seemed to “wear” this dog as an accessory that must be equipped with certain features, according to the park rules. Likely, it is not the leading that these owners prioritized when choosing a leash to manage their dog. After all, any kind of leash is capable to restrain a small dog’s movements. Instead, their leash performed a function closer to that of a piece of jewelry which represents status, wealth, and prestige. And in any situation where the possibility of damage becomes feasible, the dog attached to a leash can be picked up to avoid any unnecessary tension and danger to either the leash or the dog. Such a treatment strongly resembles the way in which people hide their expensive smartphones in shiny cases when it is raining outside or remove their golden necklaces when enjoying a session in a swimming pool. This leash’s purpose or its final cause seem to be precisely that – a beautiful yet relatively fragile piece of jewellery.
Of course, there are numerous other factors that were in play that day and affected how different leashes functioned. Those include the age and gender of both the humans and animals; the breed that the dogs represented; the type of body that their owners had; the natural ability to react quickly in a situation of higher stress; the state of mind of all participants, and many other variables which are not possible to list here. Yet, the outcomes were strongly representative of how the owners envisioned their leashes’ final cause, or the function, when approaching the very purchase of their dog-restraining instruments. For some of us, the leash represented a valuable tool that could protect both the dogs and us from potential dangers; for others, it was a nominal barrier that was not truly necessary but was present out of respect to those who might fear dogs; and yet for others, the leash was a piece of jewelry which pointed to the owners’ buying abilities.
The leashes are supposed to lead and most of them actually can. After all, the official legislature says that “all dogs must be on leash” in public places, presuming that all leashes can prevent dogs from chasing after geese and knocking small children down. There is nothing in this statement that specifies the kinds of leashes that are appropriate or that questions their ability to lead. On another hand, we, the owners of those leashes, approach purchasing these tools with a particular agenda in mind. And even though the dogs seem to be on leash from an outsider’s perspective, they are sometimes, paradoxically, not.