Dogs

PREFACE

Inevitably someone will read this and let me know how evil, awful, and hateful a person I am for "hating dogs."

Please relax.

We have dogs.

I like dogs.

Correction: I like most dogs.

What I don't like are uncontrolled, angry dogs who threaten harm.

 I don't blame the dog. I blame the owner who is either too lazy or too stupid to train or constrain the dog.

"Leave ma dog alone!"

Pennsylvania has a state-wide "leash law," which requires every dog owner to properly restrain his/her dog. Nevertheless, plenty of folks think it's a right to allow their dog to roam free, pillaging garbage, soiling yards, and chasing unsuspecting cyclists. So if your dog runs out while I am riding on a public road and either threatens me or cuts off my travel, I will yell at, kick, or perhaps even harm your dog.

Dogs are not people and are not protected under law the way people are. This is as it should be.

So if you truly "love dogs," control your pet (Spay/neuter so we don't have a superabundance of dogs).


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Years ago I rode a long, steep, turning road for the first time in eastern, PA on a test commute. It was mixed wealthy gentleman farmer land with a few huge houses interspersed. I wasn't sure how far exactly this route would take me and had no idea what the roads were like (I was carrying a Rand McNally road map in my jersey pocket -- this was before Google Earth, and other route recon tools).

I came to a final switchback and was 50 yards from the top of this long, steady climb when I saw a giant German Shepherd streaking to intercept. I pushed hard but 15 MPH was max speed up that 10% grade. He was within 5 yards when I let out a primal yell that combined Drill Sergeant command, Dad "Don't!", and Pict berserker charge.

It worked. That giant attack mongrel stopped dead in his tracks. I kept rolling before he regathered his wits.

I looked left and there was an old lady bagging leaves. She looked like she had just witnessed a murder. I would have apologized but Cujo was back on my heels, so I kept pushing until the crest and the welcome downhill.

I sometimes wonder if she recovered.

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One day I was riding in Amish country (around New Holland, PA) when I saw a little mop head dog streak from behind the barn built parallel to the road. I was rolling along about 25 MPH down the false flat and figured he'd soon be in my dust.

Wrong.

That dog was a missle and within seconds made a lunge for my front wheel.

Zigging and zagging was not an option. Neither was braking. So I held on tight and tried to bunny hop.

But his lunge and my hop were mis-timed, so my front wheel rolled along his back, my chainrings seemed to get caught for a millisecond in his coat, and my back wheel gave a solid THUD as the bike rolled across the dog's stunned carcass.

I was still upright when I felt the bike rolling as straight and true as ever. I looked back to see what happened and the dog was lying there with all fours splayed, looking at me with the look of the vanquished.

I rode there many more times and spotted him a couple of times, comfortably glaring at me from his perch at the front of the barn door.

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Last fall I was bombing down the backside of a very steep ridge when I saw and heard a large black dog lying in ambush in a culvert that paralleled the pavement. He lunged just as I passed but his timing was off.

I looked back and he was in full gallop. He looked like a Shepherd-Rottweiler mix.  My guess is that the owner was compensating for lack of strength, power, dignity, and control in his/her life and got a "mean dog" to fill the enormous void.

Bad choice.

I haven't been back on that road since then. It would be a good workout climb but is not worth the potential injury/lawsuit..

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We were visiting family far upstate NY (near the St Lawrence River) when on my ride back I was cut off by a pack of six dogs.

My first thought was that this group looked motley enough to be the crew from Up.

"I see a bicycle you are riding..."

But the lead dog knew his stuff. He stayed low, and slowly worked to close the space between us.
The dog that sits and barks is rarely a threat. It's the quiet, stealthy one with ears back, poised to pounce that will get you.

I'd be careful around this one

I kept an eye on him, dismounted, kept the bike between him and me, and slowly pulled the pepper spray from my jersey pocket.

Whenever he would get within ten feet I would roar and lunge at him, letting him know he was in my space and I would fight if he entered. He would pause, then slip sideways as he backed, never shifting his gaze.

The other dogs stayed behind him.

I kept yelling for an owner, since there was a beat up old travel trailer in the woods just off the road (this is forgotten upstate NY -- many many desolate roads with 1 or 2 houses on a 2-3 mile stretch).

We played this game for about 5 minutes. They were too close for me to just turn around and go another way (NEVER turn your back to a threatening dog). So I pushed the bike and me forward, pushing them back 10' at a time as I got past the trailer. One last lunge and roar and the lead dog tired and trotted back to the dumpy trailer.

By then I was ready to have some words with Mr and Mrs Moron, but getting back to tempo on the return trip was more important. I clipped in, wound it up to 25 MPH, and kept it there all down the straight, flat road.

This is the worst type encounter -- far from any witnesses, the lazy, worthless owner unimpressed with law, threat, or loss of "pet," and a pack of untrained mongrels unused to interlopers on their "turf."

The best course is to avoid these spots, but it's tough when you're riding in new areas.