LONDON, U.K. -- The doggie dam has burst.
You knew I would return to this subject, didn鈥檛 you? Dogs under lockdown. The man鈥檚 obsessed.
So let鈥檚 take a little poll.
Raise your hands all those dog haters (just joking) who are tired of hearing stories about dogs on leads, dogs off leads, dogs that roll in the grass, dogs that plead for freedom.
And may I suggest you wash your hands before raising them. To the tune of God Save the Queen, no less.
Okay, here鈥檚 the latest: Sammy has been freed of his shackles. Let us hear the cheering. Liberation has arrived.
In fact, it was canine anarchy this morning in the beautiful surroundings of her majesty鈥檚 royal parks. There was no longer even a pretense of obeying the rules.
And the rule, if I may remind you goes like this: 鈥淒ogs should be kept on leads.鈥
But wait, I鈥檓 getting ahead of myself. You need to hear the buildup.
A few days ago a very earnest British woman鈥擨 would say she was in her mid-70s鈥攚alked into the park trailing her dog. Large. Brown. Happy to be unbound.
She made a point of stopping to speak.
鈥淵ou know,鈥 she said, looking down at Sammy, still fastened at the collar. 鈥淵ou don鈥檛 have to keep him on the lead anymore.鈥
It was meant to be helpful. It felt lofty. Her dog had wandered off by now and found a nice tree no doubt.
鈥淭hat鈥檚 what the police told me. I just thought you鈥檇 want to know.鈥
Thank you very much. We already knew that, and believe me, we鈥檝e discussed the matter thoroughly.
He: 鈥淲hat do you want to do?鈥
She: 鈥淭hey鈥檙e still saying we should keep him on a lead.鈥
He: 鈥淲hat do the ladies say?鈥
She: 鈥淯ndecided.鈥
The 鈥渓adies鈥 have been walking their dogs in The Regent鈥檚 Park for many years. Their word is sacred.
It was quickly becoming apparent that we were in the minority. Instead of feeling guilty about breaking park rules, we felt guilty about not letting Sam loose.
I swear he had learned to make his face look despondent.
She: 鈥淚t doesn鈥檛 seem fair.鈥
He: 鈥淟ife isn鈥檛 fair.鈥
She: 鈥淣o, I mean鈥t doesn鈥檛 seem fair that other dogs are running all over the place. He鈥檒l think he鈥檚 being punished.鈥
By Tuesday of this week our principles were beginning to slip.
By Wednesday, the boy was offered a short trial.
By this morning, all human resistance had disappeared. All moral reluctance had been buried. Click, he was free to run.
And run he did, ears back, tail down, careening around trees, leaping at unreachable squirrels, prancing around with a stick firmly planted between his teeth. I swear he was smiling.
I鈥檓 not sure there鈥檚 any going back.
Of course, there鈥檚 a great irony in all this. As dogs roam, the rest of us remain locked in our houses, with no expectation of being released for a very long time.
England鈥檚 chief medical officer of health said it yesterday with a depressing bluntness. 鈥淪ocially disruptive measures鈥 will be with us for at least the rest of the year.
Well, at the end of Day 31, consider this:
The grown daughter of friends wanted to visit her parents and simply sit in their back yard for a while. Just to be around them. To make sure everything was okay. She walked into the house, careful to keep her distance鈥攏o hugging, no kissing鈥攃ontinued through to the patio and sat there, in the very strange and poisoned universe we now inhabit.
Her mother cried.
