Human On-Leash Zone…working-rant title

I’m just gonna make the point unmistakably clear.
Wouldn’t wanna somehow offend local, politically-empowered doggie-lovers out there. Y’know the kind: the kind kind who’d motor themselves and four-legged family-member in family luxury-Beemer thru wintry and unplowed Vancouver streets (if it were refreshing winter) that couple of miles to…um, Le Pet Boutique, say, because four-legged family-member will only eat his fave soft bacon’y blend. And the human averting his gaze from fellow human begging on the corner…or warming self over steaming grating.

An aside, that, tho not much of the exaggeration…that.

Clear point I’d strayed from, before mini rant: I like doggies just fine. I’ve been a doggie’s human. A doggie occasionally comes to work: he lets me take his tennis ball, and I let him close his mouth on my hand; our agreement. Out in the real world, I’ll actually greet doggo before accompanying upright ape. The disdain I feel – thankfully not actually feeling, because I was wearing shoes – I’m aiming, as if about to pitch a bagful of disdain’ings…at aforementioned accompanying ape.

Doggo was only doing his doggo thing, I’m realistic about that. Exploring the world his ape let him off leash into. Doggo only doing what comes, and goes, naturally. On sidewalk. Around the corner and out of mind. In our fair city’s many green spaces, as the buzzword-knowing call them, but which I call public toilets.

Yeaahhh, there oughtta be a leash law…