There are plenty of modern conveniences made for dogs that I find absolutely idiotic. There's, of course, the invisible fence, which has enough voltage to first give your pup a massive coronary, then shock him back to life through defibrillation. There are also tracking devices, so you can monitor your dog's activities all day. And confirm, that yes, he is being more productive than Joe Biden.
But the most annoying invention to date? Easy, the retractable leash. Why they call them that, I do not know. No one ever retracts them. At least until someone walking near them has been fatally garroted by the wire in those things or somebody's just been forced to swing into their best jump-rope moves, while nervously reciting Bo Bo Skee Watan-Tatan.
Generally, I love taking Happy, my Golden, out for a walk in our little corner of Westchester. It's a pleasant, if simple-minded way to pass the time, which is, interestingly enough, the way I've been described, too. However, during such walks, I usually pick one side of the road to walk on and I stick with it. Leaving the rest of the road for my fellow travelers.
This was all easy enough, until my neighbors started up with those retractable leashes. Suddenly, their dogs seemed less like they were walking and more like they were in Nam on a Search and Destroy mission. With the range capability of those leashes (just under three miles, I think), they allow the dog to be on both sides of the street at once. Destroying all known rules of quantum physics. And, invariably, lashing that leash around your ankles, until you have to walk in lock-step like a prisoner and sing to ease your pain.
That's the sound of the men working on the chain gang.
One day, after being clothes-lined by yet another leash, I asked the man who nearly killed me, why he owned such a thing.
"When I take Pepe for a walk ," he said. "And he wants to go up on that lawn? He can and I don't have to walk all the way over there."
I looked at the distance his chihuahua had gone. It was about 5 feet. Or, 15 chihuahuas, if you laid them down on the road, end to end. Admittedly, this is the way most people picture that breed, anyway. Usually, with a steamroller approaching.
"So," I said, "walking over there with your dog is too much of a, um, stretch?"
"That's why I have a retractable leash," he replied.
And I have tribal scars on my ankles, I thought.
And I haven't even mentioned what sort of mess occurs, when Happy tries to play with a dog who has one of these novelty items attached to his collar. Within a minute, the two dogs are inextricably roped together. And can't be unwound. Like they've been involved in an all-day tetherball grudge match.
Now, after a few days of thinking I was missing the point about these mechanical leashes, I decided to go to Petco in Hartsdale and buy one, myself. Maybe it wasn't actually curiosity or envy. Perhaps I'd been around dogs who had these leashes so long, I was just identifying with my tormentors. And suffering from the same mental illness that made Patty Hearst rob that bank in L.A.
In the interest of research, I got something called the Flexi 3, a retractable leash made in Germany. Brought it home. Hooked Happy up. Both of us got totally confused, which has often happened to us independently. But never at the same time.
The problem is the darn button. I couldn't work it. Happy would suddenly make a break for the opposite side of the street and I'd unintentionally stop him. So suddenly, he left skid marks on the road. Next to which he scrawled, "Help Me."
If you think this invention is Germany's revenge for World War II, you're not alone.
So, I think that's enough. These lethal leashes may be here to stay, but I think I need to keep my distance from them: literally. We're not at war here in the suburbs. So, that 'kill or be killed' maxim just doesn't apply. Still, those seem to be the only two options when it comes to using a retractable leash. I know, I know, it's a very short menu. But I haven't ever choked a dog in my life. Even unintentionally. And, if possible? I'd like to keep it that way.
About this column:
Peter Gerstenzang is a freelance videographer and entertainment and humor writer based in Rye. His column, Happy Mondays, is about life with his Golden Retriever, Happy. It appears Mondays on Scarsdale Patch and Rye Patch.
