Leader of the Pack.

While walking my dog past the travellers' site in Hitchin today, we were chased down by a pack of angry Chihuahuas; it was like that bit where the horrible guy dives behind a log in 'The Lost World' to be savaged by the Compsognathus (which isn't a euphemism).

I should probably have substituted the last c-word there with 'those tiny vicious dinosaurs' for ease of reading, but you take my point. Yet, however I phrase it - and however small the dogs in question were - the experience was no less stressful as they ran us into the road. Elwood, who was on his lead (because I actually care for his and other's safety) was a little flummoxed by the whole affair, but still behaved impeccably, and yet it bothered me that no-one from the camp even looked up when their pets - who were barking mad, literally - sprinted towards us; such was the level of animal welfare awareness amongst this particular travellers community.

I must admit, people who let their dogs roam leadless by main roads are on my list. I hate their nonchalant "Well, I know they're not going to cause an accident" attitude, that seems to forget that we don't know the same. It's idiotic to think they can guarantee when there's so much room for error; what if a car backfires or the dog sees a squirrel? What if a sexy dog walks past in a bikini/pair of speedos (dependant on the first dog's sexual preference)? The margin for error is huge (unlike the Chihuahua, which is essentially a blink-and-you'll-miss-it breed).

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