I spend a great deal of my life trotting along behind my dog. On our travels I’ve noticed dog walkers come in many different shapes and sizes. When you own a large and loud German Shepherd, you learn quickly that training is a priority, although I’ll admit that teaching Dolly appropriate behaviour continues to be a work in progress.

As we trundle our way through the wilds of Newbury, trying not to get into trouble as best we can, we share space with other dog walkers, who take a different approach to dog ownership. And with time on my hands while I’m avoiding the coalface, I’ve taken a look at my fellow dog lovers, and jotted down some of my observations of the species.

N.B. I have been all of these people. For Fun Dad, replace with Fun Mum.

The Stroller

The Stroller meanders slowly through wood and across field, their dog ambling off lead in front or beside them. All other dogs, if noticed at all, are considered tranquil additions to their Zenlike calm. It would never occur to the stroller to put their dog on the lead. It passes through all canine traffic, benign or otherwise, oblivious to the chaos left in their wake. Extreme Strollers walk with their hands behind their backs; these are to be avoided at all costs.

The Whistler

Any dog walker whistling a dog whistle is guaranteed to own a dog that’s off the lead, has run off, is miles away and has no intention of coming back. Their dog could be literally anywhere and is likely to appear from behind a shrub at warp speed when you’re least expecting it.

The Female Friends

The Female Friends walk in packs of two, trailed by a smorgasbord of dogs running in circles around them. The Female Friends never put their dogs on the lead, mainly because there are too many of them to hold in addition to their takeaway coffees. When confronted by another dog, the Female Friends will launch into a series of high-pitched shrieks designed to recall the pack. This never works. They’ll then look up hopefully to see if they can get away with leaving all the dogs free. If it’s me, the answer is no. Realising this, a panicked juggle of leads and coffee cups will ensue as the Female Friends attempt to corral their animals. This can take what feels like hours.

The Mum

The Mum can take a variety of forms, all of them a nightmare. The Mum walks slowly. She can’t put her hands behind her back because she has to push the buggy and carry a coffee and keep an eye on the dogs (usually a spaniel or a labrador or both) bounding alongside her. The Mum may also be texting, speaking loudly to a friend on FaceTime or surfing Spotify. Her dogs do their own thing, training a baby as well as a dog is an impossibility.

The Mum can also come in multiples of Mums. See above, but double or triple the number of dogs, prams and coffees.

The Extendible Leader

Despite their leads being extendible, these walkers prefer to keep the setting on max. So, whether walking through a wood, a park or the pavement, the roaming limit of the dog remains at its furthest at all times. This enables the animal to jump up on, sniff at or run towards, anything within the reach of the lead. Dolly and I recently attempted to hide from a small dog on an extendible lead, concealing ourselves in a driveway to avoid it. Alas the lead was long enough for the dog to find us and get right in Dolly’s face. Vocal outrage from Dolly was met with a pitying look from the Extendible Leader but no reeling in of their dog.

The Pinger

The Pinger doesn’t walk their dog at all. Instead they stand in the centre of the park wielding a garish plastic trebuchet and lobbing faux, orange tennis balls over and over again as their dog, usually something small and yappy, endlessly retrieves them until it’s time to waddle back across the park and go home.

As with The Mum, The Pinger can also come in packs. A pack of Pingers will stand together in the centre of the park with a swarm of dogs all running kamikaze style to and fro collecting balls. One of the dogs will occasionally break formation to jump on or bite,  an unsuspecting passer-by or jogger not in the circle.  

The Fun Dad

The Fun Dad is attached to a pack of small children, building camps, playing football or cycling and scooting. Fun Dads are shouty and usually accompanied by an off-lead golden retriever who floats happily through the hubbub and kids, tail gently waving like a fern frond. The Fun Dad is too busy being Fun to notice anyone else, and mostly his dog is the same. This is fine, unless your dog decides it wants to get involved too, in which case either a) The Fun Dad and his flock have a new friend so play with or b) All hell breaks loose.  

The ‘My Dog’s Friendly’

“My Dog’s Friendly!” Yells the My Dog’s Friendly. “Is Yours?!”
“No.” I reply.

The Carrier

The Carrier picks their dog up at the slightest whiff of danger, or possibly mud. Their charges are mostly small, but you do come across Carriers who will scoop up a larger dog if faced with what they consider to be imminent danger (that would be us). Dog in arms, The Carrier will inch along the side of the pavement as far as way from the perceived risk as possible, think India Jones circumnavigating a cliff edge. I once saw a woman try to lift a full grown labrador and heave it past Dolly. Impressive.

The Pub-Goer

Pub-Goers take their dog everywhere with them, the pub being only one outlet for doggy entertainment; restaurants, cafes, supermarkets and department stores are all fair game. The Pub-Goer loves nothing more than to cross the threshold of the local watering hole and let their beloved pooch off the lead to be worshipped. It is beyond the Pub-Goer’s comprehension that anyone, human or canine, would not want to stroke, be licked by or jumped on by its dog whilst having a quiet drink.

The Curmudgeon (Me)

The Curmudgeon looks down on all other dog walkers with supreme superiority, confident that her dog is a textbook specimen when compared to the canine chaos in which she exists. The Curmudgeon never engages in conversation with fellow walkers and refuses to acknowledge the existence of all other dogs. The Curmudgeon’s own dog looks like a wolf and is reminiscent of a hippo with fluff. It will chase anything that runs; rump puffed, teeth bared and growling like Kujo in a bad mood. The widely held expectation amongst onlookers is that, if she catches her prey it will become a snack. To mitigate against such a scenario arising, The Curmudgeon keeps her hound close. Between them, they make a combo of opposites – the over-grumpy (me) and the over-friendly (Dolly). Approach with caution.

Or don’t approach at all?