How I handle getting emotional about off-leash dogs

Every single time I’ve raised my voice at the owner of a dog off leash where it shouldn’t be, I’ve felt awful.

Updated post: This article was first published in June 2020 and slightly edited in April 2024.

When an off-leash dog starts sprinting towards me and my blue heeler, my adrenaline spikes. These approaches have historically been not just annoying, irritating, or slightly bothersome.

No: After all we’ve been through, they can feel terrifying.

Why can off-leash dogs be a problem?

I’ve worked hard to help my dog feel safe with me

Scout is sweet, submissive, and shy. After being attacked while on leash, she doesn’t have interest in interacting with unfamiliar dogs — and she certainly doesn’t want them approaching at full speed!

We primarily take her to areas that have leash laws precisely because of this. We’ve done a lot of training to get her to the point where she can neutrally coexist around other dogs, and it is one of my proudest accomplishments that she’s generally a model public citizen. (She has her Canine Good Citizen title, earned her Advanced Trick Dog in a group class with other pets, and goes just about everywhere with us in our converted van home.)

But every time an unknown dog charges us without permission? We risk being set back.

I have to make a decision between breaking Scout’s faith in handler (which has taken ages to build) or keeping the other dog out of her space (which is never fun, largely because of how owners respond).

The worst part is how easy it is to become emotionally overwhelmed in those situations. Scout’s safety, trust, and relationship with me feel like they’re on the line. Those stakes are high… and my anger can quickly follow suit.

Plus out-of-control dogs can be problematic in general

Byond my own dog’s fear:

• Some of our loved ones aren’t comfortable around dogs. Others can be unsteady on their feet. Being rushed full speed by an unfamiliar canine, even if they really are friendly, can range from slightly worrisome to physically dangerous.

• We care a lot about the environment. Some spaces have leash laws to protect plants, soil, and wildlife. Fragile ecosystems can be devastated by dogs running off trail.

• Some dogs aren’t scared like Scout but don’t want to be approached without permission for other reasons. They might be sick, injured (we’ve fostered two dogs with broken legs), elderly, or in training for things ranging from service work to general neutrality.

• The more people break the rules in pet-friendly places, the greater the chance parks departments or other relevant organizations consider banning pets altogether.

In short: Responsible dog ownership is one of my biggest passions. Leash-required areas exist for a reason. We shouldn’t assume others want to interact with our dog. It’s important to have our pets under control!

So when fellow handlers disregard the other people and animals around them in shared spaces… even if Scout herself is doing well… I can feel pretty upset.

How not to handle being rushed by off-leash dogs

I once got into a yelling match with a drunk college student after his dog charged us, and let me tell you: Whether or not I was “in the right” in the situation, I still felt like utter crap afterward.

I once kicked out to keep a girl’s black lab away when it tried to nip Scout’s hind leg, and she promptly rattled off a slew of profane accusations. What did I do? Yelled back… and you guessed it: felt like utter crap.

In fact, every single time I’ve raised my voice at the owner of a dog off leash where it shouldn’t be, I’ve felt awful.

This is for multiple reasons:

• Harmony and respect are two of my values. Giving into heightened emotions and yelling at strangers does not align with who I want to be.

• Screaming isn’t productive. Rarely, if ever, has antagonistic yelling inspired any real change.

• Causing a scene only makes the experience more overwhelming and scary for Scout.

So if getting self-righteously angry isn’t the solution, what is?

We live in a world where people are going to break the rules. It’s a fact. If I live constantly bothered by every transgression, I’m not going to have very much fun… and Scout certainly isn’t either!

I’ve spent a long time wrestling with my emotions when we deal with irresponsible owners. I’m nowhere near perfect — I still feel that rush of adrenaline and self-righteousness sometimes — but I’m proud to say it’s been ages since I yelled at a drunk stranger.

Here are a few ways I try to keep my emotions in check.

Method #1: Put my dog’s needs above everything else

First things first: When an off-leash dog is trying to get to Scout, she needs me.

She needs me to step in. Give her direction. Reasonably advocate for her space. Stay steady and calm, not frazzled and rude.

As someone who puts so much time and energy into my relationship with my dog, it is hard to look at another handler jeopardizing her safety and feel empathetic. Sometimes I just can’t get myself to care much what the owner of an off-leash dog sprinting towards us thinks.

But I do care what Scout thinks.

When I frame my reaction as something that benefits my relationship with her, it’s easier to stay calm. I’m not being polite and level-headed for the sake of the other human — I’m doing it for my dog!

Here’s what I try to tell myself when I see an off-leash dog approaching us:

• I have the power to make this situation less traumatic for Scout.

• If I stay calm, I have the greatest chance of keeping her safe.

• My dog picks up on my stress. It’s unfair to pass that on to her.

• We’ve trained for this. We can handle it.

• Politely asking the owner to leash their dog might help them want to help us!

• Yelling and screaming at the other owner will put them on the defensive.

• I can’t control anyone else’s behavior… but I can control my own actions.

• Scout deserves a calm, steady owner worthy of trusting and listening to.

Method #2: Think about creating small incremental change

Thinking about putting Scout’s needs above my feelings of self-righteousness and anger has been extremely helpful. On top of that, here’s another thing I try to ask myself when I find myself getting emotional about off-leash dogs:

“What can I do that has the greatest chance of creating long-term change?”

I’m not under a naive illusion that Scout and I are going to revolutionize dog ownership. People get to make their own decisions — and some will always break the rules, or think they’re the shiny exception, or simply not care about the world around them. It is what it is.

But every time we interact with another owner, we have an opportunity to plant a seed for some small incremental change!

As gratifying as it can feel in the heat of the moment, the truth is that yelling at someone is pretty much never a productive way to get them to think more critically about their actions.

There are two sides to every story

For every story I tell my dog friends about being charged by an off-leash dog in an on-leash area, there is another being told by the other owner involved.

It probably sounds a little different.

When I say “I can’t believe they blatantly broke the clear leash laws like that”, they say “I can’t believe she was so upset”. For each of my “it was so stressful”, they have their own “he just wanted to say hi”.

And in our own circles, we both get support for telling our different versions of the experience.

In my mind, the owner breaking leash laws is rude, irresponsible, and a slew of other unsavory adjectives. In their mind, the girl with the scared heeler is a crazy, out-of-control dog lady. Why does she even have her dog in public if it doesn’t want to be social?

The stories we tell ourselves color everything else.

Yelling doesn’t make a difference

When we yell at each other, all we do is deepen the perceived differences between us. Now we’re both angry, defensive, and entirely unwilling to listen.

That’s never been a recipe for anything good.

Even if I don’t care what the other owner thinks of me — even if I do feel they are irresponsible and someone I’d rather not associate with moving forward — I can at least care about trying not to put on a circus for everyone around us.

When I’m polite, composed, and ready to calmly explain why my dog (and many others in public) doesn’t want to be approached, I create an opportunity to do two things:

1. Get the other owner of the off-leash dog to think about how their actions affect others. Our human brains love anecdotes, so sharing Scout’s personal story might make a difference.

2. Educate the other bystanders around us. If I’m shouting like a madwoman, no one will be very inclined to hear me out. (I don’t blame them!) But if I handle the situation maturely, there’s a chance that an onlooker might reconsider their own perceptions.

Both of these potential changes are small. Perhaps they are trivial. But if I can turn a stressful, difficult experience into something positive — no matter how little — it sure feels like a win to me.

Progress isn’t linear — and big emotions are valid

I’m a work in progress. My relationship with Scout is a work in progress. Everything about my dog ownership journey is (and always will be) a work in progress.

Every time I maturely handle being charged by an off-leash dog, it gets a little easier. It will never be my favorite scenario to “practice” — but it’s a fact of life, and working through it makes us stronger.

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We can’t control the actions of other people. In the moment, we just try to handle being approached in the healthiest way possible. In the long run, we hope to create small incremental change.

When it comes to my dog, I know my emotions might always be a little erratic. Scout is my “blind spot”. But I can keep trying to create more positivity in the world through every situation we encounter… even (and especially) when it seems unfair that we have to deal with them in the first place.