Out of paranoia for his safety, Pyper is rarely off his leash when not playing in the park. This paranoia is well-founded, for Pyper does not always respect artificial barriers like sidewalks that would deter a more respectful dog from running onto roads. We haven't had any close calls of the dog-hits-car type, but even his crossing empty roads bothers me.
Still, the sight of many well-behaved dogs walking beside trusting owners has left me with enough envy to occasionally try taking Pyper out without a leash. During several very late night walks (1 AM) in a row, I took Pyper to some quite quiet streets, and unleashed the hound. He didn't run off to Antarctica; he did not commit suicide under the nearest streetcar. He behaved rather well, running up to houses and peeing on them, smelling for cats, etc. I found myself talking to him a lot, instructing him to stay close, to come back, etc., rather than simply yanking him like otherwise possible. It was a lot of fun, but for some reason I stopped doing this and now Pyper is back in his leashy jail.
Evening walks are a delight still with the leash. Pyper makes it look very enjoyable when he purposefully trots around the street corners, heads for trees and bushes, and does his best to keep them from dying of thirst. He is generous to a fault, sometimes endangering his aristocratic self in service of these peonical plants. One night, he ran head first into a big ugly rose bush skeleton on the next street. I didn't know that until I heard him yelp and saw his movements freeze. While these behaviors are not completely absent from his normal repertoire, this was different, because, well, because. I went over for a closer look, and Pyper still didn't move. I looked him over, and found a rather thorny problem - a couple of rose branches were stuck to his side.
Those removed, I thought the problem was solved, but Pyper disagreed - he still didn't move. I bent way down and found the real problem. A big Y-shaped section of branching got stuck in his belly fur, between his front legs, all the way to his tail. Remind yourself of the effect of rose thorns on relatively insensitive human skin, then consider what poor unneutered doggie must have gone through. Ouch. Very slowly and carefully, while restraining Pyper from running away (and causing injury to his humble helper), the branch was made gone. I could swear that Pyper showed some gratitude afterwards, but I'm probably just imagining it.
Something about summer makes every able-bodied Torontonian want to head for the nearest approximation of nature within shopping distance. Those who are willing to take a boat ride would consider the Centre Island area a good substitute for nature. It's just cute enough to be non-metropolitan, and just close enough not to actually be outdoors. But off we go anyway, on a nice Saturday morning. Pyper is naturally a member of the party - showing him off to gawking Lassie-fans is worth the hassle of carrying dog supplies a long way. This Saturday was quite nice, and encouraged eager outdoor wannabes to head across the ferry early on to beat the crowds. Like any eager Eigler, we arrived early with enough water for a few hours of walking.
Pyper took the boat ride just fine. He had a good seat near the main deck; his head was strategically positioned for a limited view of the water passing near the catamuran. When we got off, we got an eyeful of the several "Thou Shalt Not Release Your Hound From Its Leash, On The Pain Of Hell" signs, which we took to be more of an inspirational nature than as a government directive. We showed this by letting Pyper run around a little bit in more isolated areas. He liked it - many many trees to irrigate, long stretches of grass to run around. It was great, until we got the labyrinth.
Ah yes, the labyrinth. I have odd memories of my first visit to this acre-sized shrub maze in 1989 with an old friend, and decided to energize the odd karma by entering the structure with Pyper. There is only one (official) entrance/exit, and Juimiin guarded it. In I went, and Pyper followed. I thought it might be fun to get a little ahead of the dog, to see if he could track me by smell. Sadly, his sense of smell must have been dulled by the grunge left by prior visitors, for when I turned two corners ahead of him, Pyper got worried. When I got away farther, and then stopped (so he can't find me by ear), Pyper panicked. He ran back and forth on pathways and dead ends, sometimes barking with that mixed whine which means "Help!". Every time, I found him again within half a minute to calm him down, only to dart away again after he calmed down. After three or four iterations of this, I took pity on Pyper and we left the maze together. He was very relieved to be out of there, and to have me and Juimiin within his eyesight again. We'll have to go back sometime.
I don't like people who are scared of Pyper. There must be some giant rock under which entire families must have crawled out under from, for no flesh-and-blood human who has seen the many Lassie shows could possibly fail to recognize Pyper for the lovable softie he really is. Yet this rock must be near where we live, and I have proof. About three quarters of the local Chinese people seem to be terrified by anything with four legs. There is a weird mixture of fear and disgust on those faces, passed dutifully from pitiful adult to pitiful child. Yes, I know, "back home" dogs are bred to be vicious property defenders, but really. There are maybe a hundred dogs in the immediate area - there is always one around! To not get over some othercontinently experience, and to pass the phobias to local offspring is just dumb. It even confuses Pyper, when he - leashed - approaches these people and gets gestured away or yelled at. It is pathetic for an adult to reflexively shirk from a happy friendly animal half his size.