Dear reader,
Three cedar trees partially obscure my porch from the view of passing pedestrians, which makes it a cozy place to watch the world go by. It was there I sat, recently, when a man led his dog, a shih tzu with a high-concept haircut, to the corner of my lawn. And it was there that this godless libertine encouraged his animal to defecate on the grass.
Many homeowners don’t mind this behaviour. Under different circumstances, I wouldn’t either: I adore dogs and know that nature sometimes calls without warning. But the lawn is where my kids play, and nothing ruins a playdate faster than soiled clothing. To make my point of view unambiguous, I’d installed a little sign of a dog, its back distinctively arched, over the word “No!” What the sign may lack in taste is made up for in clarity of messaging. At least that’s what I thought—until this villainous pooch did his business one inch from it.
My question is this: When did dog owners decide they answer only to themselves? I know I sound persnickety and entitled, but I’m not alone in my bafflement. In this city, dogs abound in all their jumpy, humpy, slobbery, bitey ways. And owners seem less interested than ever in policing them.
The municipal authority on canine politics is Paula Fletcher. She helped develop the People, Dogs and Parks strategy of 2007, the first time the amalgamated city put rules around off-leash areas. Back then, relations were bad, but in a low-simmer kind of way. Today, the pot is boiling so hard the lid keeps popping off.
During a recent call, Fletcher and I agreed that the pandemic did something to us all: lockdowns and other mandates sparked a broad resentment of government. Today, the you-can’t-tell-me-what-to-do ethos remains.
Pair that attitude with the dramatic rise in dog ownership and the densification of downtown, and you’ve got packs of dogs, nowhere to take them and owners who don’t care what you think.
“You love your dog, it’s your companion, we get it,” Fletcher said. “But there are rules. Most people are reasonable and rational—but not everyone is.”
To this I can attest. As can parents who’ve had to shield their toddler from a menacing bullmastiff, seniors who’ve been knocked flat by an excitable Weimaraner and store owners who’ve had to remind customers that, yes, “No dogs” applies to your purse Pomeranian.
In short: Toronto has an intractable dog problem. We went to Sarah Liss, a smart, voicey writer, and asked her to make sense of it all. In her story, “Don’t Worry, She’s Friendly!”, Liss explores the etiquette crisis and the preponderance of dangerous dogs stalking our public spaces.
