I mentioned in a blog post a few weeks ago that I had taken a hike on a local public land where dogs were supposed to be on leash, and had hiked with one of my dogs – off-leash. A scofflaw!

Like all scofflaws, I have rationalizations: My dogs have good impulse control. My dogs are under reliable voice control. My dogs are friendly. My dogs are not predatory. My dogs have never started or even participated in an altercation with another dog.

That said, unless I am in an area that is posted as a legal off-leash area, where anyone present could fully expect to see off-leash dogs, I always leash my dogs if I’m near any other humans, or especially any other humans with dogs.While I am confident my dogs are both trained enough and have good enough impulse control to not approach anyone without permission, the people we see don’t know that! Putting on the leash is just good manners.

But when my husband and I took a four-hour hike in this area three weeks ago, we saw maybe 10 other people – and all of them at a great distance. I leashed my dog only at the beginning and end of the hike, as we left and then re-approached the parking area. The area was nearly devoid of visitors, because the spring flowers had barely begun to bud, and the only real draw to walking in that area are the seasonal waterfalls, and the wildflowers a few weeks later. The rest of the year, the area most resembles Mars: hot, rocky and barren.

Yesterday, I went for another hike the same area – and didn’t even bring a dog! Now the area is lit up with wildflowers. We’ve had an extraordinarily wet winter, and the earth is responding with a superbloom – drawing crowds from far and wide.

I knew that with so many people coming to see the flowers, bringing a dog would be no fun for the dog nor me. First and most of all, because at this time there are so many other people out there, it would have only been appropriate to keep my dog on leash the entire time, and this would have seriously diminished the enjoyment for me and my dog.

I was right. We passed dozens and dozens of people, and a number of not-very-happy looking dogs. Even though they were getting taken out to experience a beautiful day with their people, I don’t think any of them were having much fun.

The best part of being out in a gorgeous natural setting for most dogs is the opportunity to smell whatever they want, more or less at their own pace. And to have to stay on a leash and go at the human’s nonsensical (to dogs) pace, I think, would just be maddening. At least it would be for my dogs.

Dogs who are content to stroll slowly and simply be with their owners might have enjoyed it just fine. Since I usually hike in other local areas where it is legal for dogs to be off-leash, my dogs are used to running ahead, pausing to smell stuff whenever they want, falling behind, running to catch up again.

It was also really nice to go on a walk and not have to pick up or carry poop!

Most of us dog lovers have the impulse to bring our dogs when we are going to do any sort of outdoor activity, but there are times when bringing them will cause them to have more stress than fun – when it’s very hot, when there are unexpected and loud noises (street fairs!), and anywhere there are crowds. (There probably are dogs that don’t mind crowds, but I don’t know them.)

I would just like to encourage you to really think through your decision to bring your dog to the next outdoor activities you partake: Will it really be fun for your dog? Can he deal with crowds easily, especially a crowd where there are likely to be lots of other stressed dogs? Will it be safe and comfortable for him? Is he fit enough to participate without getting hurt or exhausted? Are you prepared to bring water and poop bags, and turn back early if he’s looking stressed or overheated?

I made up for excluding my dogs from the hike by playing a ton of fetch with them before we left, and handed out Kongs that were stuffed with canned foodand frozen as I left. I think it was a win/win situation.

Published in the March 2019 issue of Whole Dog Journal was an article headlined, “Reporting Dogs’ Adverse Reactions is Your Duty.” In the article, longtime WDJ contributor Barbara Dobbins discussed the various reasons that dog owners and veterinarians should report any sort of adverse event or negative side effects they observe in their dogs or their clients’ dogs to the agency that provides oversight of whatever substance they think has caused harm.

Dobbins also provided instruction on and links for sending adverse event reports to the appropriate agencies; for example, animal drugs are regulated by the Food & Drug Administration’s Center for Veterinary Medicine (FDA CVM); topical pesticides are monitored by the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA); animal vaccines are regulated by the U.S. Department of Agriculture Center for Veterinary Biologics (USDA CVB).

We complained about one thing in that article – that the CVM’s cumulative database of adverse drug event (ADE) summaries offers only reports that were collected by the agency from 1987 through April 30, 2013. More recent reports have been collected electronically – and ironically, these more technologically modern reports have not been made available to the interested public, except through a Freedom of Information Act (FOIA) request.

The problem, as it was explained on the CVM’s website, was that the project of collating the (old) paper reports with the newer, electronically submitted reports was not complete. A note on the CVM website stated, “We anticipate having updated adverse event information available in late 2017 or early 2018.” (But the note, and not the updated adverse event reports, was still present on the website in January 2019!)

On April 3, 2019, the FDA issued a press release, announcing that it is making the adverse event reports related to animal drugs and medical devices used in animals available online – including all the reports going back some 30 years. The reports “will be available electronically onopenFDA.gov, an agency-run digital platform used by researchers, statisticians and other academics to access large, valuable public health datasets collected by the FDA.”

Hurray! The project is complete! This giant new step in transparency makes it possible for a dog owner or veterinarian to research what sorts of adverse effects to a certain drug (for example) have been experienced by dogs, and how many dogs have been affected in those ways! Wow! Cool!

But before we celebrate our new ability to check out the past ADEs, we will have to master some new and tricky (although certainly not impossible) application programming interfaces (APIs).

What the Heck is An API?

According to Wikipedia: “In computer programming, an application programming interface (API) is a set of subroutine definitions, communication protocols, and tools for building software. In general terms, it is a set of clearly defined methods of communication among various components.”

The computer programmers among our readers may just be as happy with this news as my dog Woody with his Planet Dog Squeak ball. Alas, I am not a computer programmer, and my initial excitement over the FDA news release has been thoroughly squashed by the hour or so I spent trying to learn about APIs and how to construct queries and, oh, by the way, when doing so, please note that the system makes use of British English spellings of words like “diarrhoea.”

My squashing, I hope, is temporary. I’m sure I know someone who can walk me through and past this technological challenge – perhaps to a point where I could explain to others how to access all of this valuable information on animal drugs. If you think that person might be you, take a look at the launch site, and get back to me?

Editor’s Note:

Two weeks ago, my husband and I went hiking on Table Mountain, a volcanic plateau that looms on our northern horizon. The open space area is managed by the California Department of Fish & Wildlife, although it’s adjacent to privately owned property. Beef cattle roam over the entire plateau, on both public and private lands (cattle ranchers lease grazing rights on the public land from the state). It’s best known as a springtime destination for its vast array of tiny wildflowers and dramatic waterfalls.

I brought just one dog, my three-year-old mixed-breed, Woody. We planned a long hike, and I didn’t want to subject my senior dog to a long day on unknown terrain. The area has few trails – and none, oddly enough, go directly to the biggest, most dramatic waterfall; one has to sort of wander across the plateau in a general direction, until you find the appropriate stream and follow it to the cliff it goes over.

For much of the past few decades, access to the land was informal. Private landowners pretty much looked the other way when hikers came to gaze at the waterfalls in awe, or traipse around the wildflowers. But a couple of years ago, the area was added to a list of state lands that would require a small admission fee. One can either pay for a day pass (less than $5 per person), or purchase a year-round pass that confers access to a number of state parks and trails (less than $26), or, show a hunting or fishing license. Some portable toilets were added to the parking lot, and a sign was erected that posted a few rules.

One of those rules was that dogs should be on leash.

Keep in mind that locals have been taking their dogs to this area for decades and letting them run off leash. And they still are. Even me.

However: I practice off-leash behavior with my dogs literally every day. If they show any sign of being unable to heed my cues to stay near me, or sit instantly when I call for them to do so, they go back on leash immediately. I keep my dogs on leash when I am near any other humans, and especially near any other humans with dogs.

So there we were, my husband, Woody, and I, crossing a wide-open vista, in search of the biggest waterfall. A few cattle grazed nearby. As he always does, Woody kept his eye on them, and kept close to me. He’s not sure about cattle, but he knows not to go near them. As we walked, I noticed one young steer grazing apart from the rest, just to our left, and some mamas and one giant bull to our right. I called to my husband, who was a bit ahead of me, to veer to the left and not get between the youngster and the rest of his herd, lest the bull or the mamas get concerned. (Range cattle, who have to cope with coyotes and mountain lions on a regular basis, may well give chase en mass to an unwary dog.)

Just as we veered left, I noticed another young steer, all by itself, a few hundred yards off to our far left, running fast (well, as fast as a 400-pound steer can run) toward us. I glanced at the mama cows and especially at the bull, to see if they were alarmed or taking defensive action. They were watching but hadn’t moved. I called Woody even closer, to my side, and gave him some treats from my pouch of training treats. And that’s when I noticed that the young steer wasn’t just running for fun, or because he had been left behind; close on his heels was a brownish-gray large dog, chasing him with an intent look. Farther off, there was a group of people, with one man chasing and yelling at the dog, to no avail.

And the dog was rapidly gaining on the steer.

A few days prior, I had watched a video taken by someone in Detroit who was one of several people who spent the better part of five long minutes trying to rescue a postal worker from a large dog who, as the video started, had the mail carrier on the ground and was biting his leg. Don’t watch the video unless you are tough; it’s pretty graphic. The man is injured, though ultimately saved, and the dog is badly injured before finally letting go of the man. I watched it several times, and discussed it with a number of other people who watched it, as an educational opportunity. What’s the best way to stop a strong dog in the middle of an attack? The only thing that stopped this dog for long enough for the postal worker to get away was being choked, almost to death, by a leash or rope wrapped around his neck. (And the minute the leash was dropped, though staggering with oxygen deprivation and badly injured, the over-stimulated dog was still looking for someone, anyone, to go after.)

So that was very much in my head. I could see that, within seconds, the dog was going to catch up to and grab onto the steer’s hind leg, or worse, throat. I saw myself trying to stop the attack and control the dog. Having grown up in cattle country, I also saw the possibility that the range bull (who was about 150 feet to my right) would launch into action and come after the dog. I saw my dog Woody getting hurt by either the out-of-control, over-stimulated dog, or the bull.

So I flew into action. I yelled at my husband, “Keep your eye on the bull!” and started running directly toward the steer and the dog, yelling in my deepest, meanest, most out-of-control, angry voice and waving my arms like a crazy person. “NO! BAD! GET OUT OF HERE! BAD DOG! NO! YOU GET!”

Faced with this, the steer veered off, further to my right. And although at this point, the dog was no more than 20 feet from the steer’s hind feet, he was momentarily distracted by my attack. He glanced toward me, and slowed a bit, a bit less intent. As I continued to yell and advance toward him, now miming that I was picking up rocks and throwing them at him, he slowed further and then came to an uncertain stop about 100 feet to my left. I continued to yell, “YOU GET BACK. BAD DOG! GO!” And then suddenly his thinking brain kicked in again, taking control back from his reptile brain and predatory instincts. He heard his owner (still about 400 feet away) yelling for him, and turned and ran back toward his person. With my heart pounding and hands shaking from the adrenaline coursing through my body, I also yelled furiously toward the man, “LEASH!” (I didn’t trust myself to say more, I was poisoned with anger.) I looked back toward the bull and the rest of the herd and they were still stationary; the steer ran to his mama.

And then I looked at Woody – who was cowering behind my husband, scared to death, shaking so hard he could barely stand. I said, “Oh Woody! It’s okay! Come here!” – and he wouldn’t come to me!

My heart just broke. I dropped to my knees and, also shaking, patted my lap. “Oh baby puppy, come here! It’s okay! YOU are not in trouble! You are a good, good, dog!” I opened my treat pouch and, tears running down my face, dumped out a huge handful of treats. He came to me then, still shaking with fear. I stroked and petted him as he licked his lips nervously, and we sat there for a few minutes, both of us recovering from the flood of stress chemicals in our bloodstream. I was so upset – at the person who had his dog off-leash and without control, and at myself for scaring the crap out of my own dog. But I also felt I had done the right thing; there is not a doubt in my mind that without my intervention, that dog was going to attack that steer and it was going to be all bad.

For the rest of our hike, I kept reassuring Woody that he was a very, very good dog, and we never came within sight of the other party of people (or their dog) again. By the end of the hike, Woody’s confidence in me seemed restored. I’ve made many deposits in our relationship account, and though that was a major withdrawal of funds, at the end of the day the balance was still positive, thank goodness. Had he been a more fearful dog, or our relationship not so secure, my frightening behavior might have bankrupted us irreversibly.

The second event happened two days ago and is more tragic. I was working at my desk, at my office/house in town, when someone knocked urgently on the front door. I answered the door and saw a teenaged boy who lives across the street and one house over. He said, “There’s a dog that got mauled and the owner needs your help!” I was like, “What? Who?” But I grabbed a leash – again, thinking of that dog in Detroit, who had to be choked almost to death to be stopped – and followed him at a run down the sidewalk. There was a group of people gathered on the sidewalk about six houses down, with one woman kneeling and a dog on the ground. The woman on the ground was my neighbor from directly across the street. She has an ancient, blind, deaf old man of a Beagle, Brando, whom she walks very slowly every day. Brando was lying on the ground in front of her, wearing his vest harness and leash but covered with mud and spit and blood. As I approached, I saw his chest expand and then fall – and he didn’t move again. We all gasped as we realized he had taken his last breath.

I put my arm around my neighbor, who was stunned, crying, in shock, and also covered with mud. “What happened?” I asked her. She said, “There were three dogs… they attacked him.” I said, as much to the other neighbors standing there in shock as to her, “Where are the dogs? How far? Where are they?” Everyone started to answer at once. “Around the corner… they are still loose… we saw them…”

Because I volunteer at my local shelter, I have the number (the same as for our animal control officers) on speed dial. I said, “I’m going to call animal control, and get my car.” I asked another woman standing there to stay with my neighbor. I pulled my mobile phone from my back pocket as I trotted home to get my car. When the shelter staffer answered, recognizing his voice, I said, “Dave, we need an officer here, fast. Some loose dogs just killed my neighbor’s old Beagle as she walked him down the street.” He said he would send officers as soon as possible.

I drove back down to the knot of people. One of the people is a guy I have seen walking his senior (though not nearly as senior as Brando) Beagle around the neighborhood. He said, “Those dogs are still loose!” I said, “An officer is on the way, but let’s make sure someone knows where the dogs are – can you keep your eyes on them, or where they go?” He took off up the street, and a minute later, I saw an animal control truck pause at the corner, and then turn up the side street toward where the man had gone.

Together, my neighbor and I lifted her dead dog’s limp, sodden body and placed him onto the back seat of my car. I said, “Honey, I know this is all very sudden, but we could take him to the shelter and arrange for him to be cremated, if you would like.” She nodded and said yes, she’d like that, but she wanted to go home for a minute and check on her other dog, a middle-aged Lab she had adopted from our shelter just a few months ago. I told her I would wait with Brando, and took the opportunity to call the shelter again and let them know I would be bringing my neighbor and her dog; could someone be ready to help her arrange for the dog’s cremation?

We were at the shelter, and she was talking to a shelter staffer about cremation options, when the officers who had been dispatched to the scene returned to the shelter, shaking their heads. The other neighbor who owns a Beagle had seen and spoken to the woman who owned the three dogs who attacked Brando. For reasons of his own, he had apparently told her angrily that animal control was on the way and they were going to seize her dogs. By the time the officers got there, she had put her dogs in a truck and fled the scene.

We just stood there, stunned. There would be no justice for Brando’s murder today.

My neighbor recounted for the officers what happened. She was walking Brando on leash, at his usual slow pace, when a collarless, unaccompanied black Lab-mix approached them. The dog was sniffing Brando and everything was fine, when a woman opened a door to her apartment and started yelling at the dog to come – and two other dogs got past her and ran straight for Brando, instantly attacking the old dog. One was a large brown dog, and the other dog was black – my neighbor thought the second attacking dog was a Lab-type, but it was all a muddle. She said the brown dog had Brando by the neck and was shaking him, and the other dog grabbed Brando by the face, and neither would let go. She didn’t think the first dog who had been sniffing Brando was involved but couldn’t be sure, it was all a blur. She said she and the other woman were both yelling and trying to stop the dogs, and as soon as the dogs let go of Brando, she picked him up and tried to carry him home, but she stopped on the sidewalk where I first saw her, as they were both gasping for breath. And he took his last breath when I came upon them.

The officers promised that they would haunt the woman’s apartment and do whatever they could – but that she might “disappear” the dogs, in which case there would be little they could do, from an enforcement angle. There was no record of licensed dogs at that address, so if they could find the woman and any dogs at the address, they would require her to show proof of rabies vaccination and licenses; if she didn’t comply there would be some teeth in what they could do, but if she did comply, that would likely be the end of it. They were frustrated and upset, and sympathetic to my neighbor, just as I am. I can’t imagine how upset I would be if it was my beloved senior dog who met his end in such a traumatic, horrible way.

I have no helpful thoughts. I am horrified by the ubiquitous presence of these uncontrolled, seemingly untrained, aggressive, powerful, and powerfully focused dogs. Why are there so many of them – in my community and most everywhere else in this country? Our shelters are full of them and it seems like many of the people that own them have no ability to control or contain them. Against their stated policies, Craigslist and Facebook are full of ads for their puppies for sale.

And yet, there are also many powerful, but sweet, reliably friendly dogs out there, too. My one and only foster-failure pit-mix, the gentle and easily frightened Woody – one of nine puppies who washed up onto the shores of my local shelter three years ago – is a delight to own and train. My Facebook feed is loaded with pleas from fellow foster-providers who have taken in homeless large, powerful dogs who are affectionate with all humans and other animals and easy to handle, but no one seems to want to own those! The dangerous ones make it terribly hard to find good homes for these nice ones. Sometimes it seems like the only people who want these dogs are the people who really shouldn’t have them!

Aggression in dogs, no matter the breed or type, is always a concern. But it is a special concern in dogs who are especially strong and as focused (when in predatory, fight, or aroused mode) as many of these large breeds can be. If you doubt this for one minute, go ahead and watch that video linked at the beginning of this post. But don’t let it poison you against all of these dogs; there are terrific ones out there, who wouldn’t dream of biting, not to save their lives.

Ack, it’s such a mess. What can be done?

Sometimes, I soak my dogs’ dry food in warm water for 15 or 20 minutes before I feed them. I do this for a couple of reasons. My older dog has had a few dental extractions, and doesn’t chew up his food as well as he used to – not that any dog grinds up much of the kibble he or she eats; unlike ours, canine teeth are not much for grinding. Mostly, a few of the kibbles get crunched, and more likely get swallowed intact. My younger dog is prone to eating way too fast – just bolting down all his food whole in less than a minute (unless I put it in a slow feeder or snuffle mat) – and I am guessing that it will put less of a strain on his digestive system if the food arrives even slightly pre-moistened.

And I know that feeding both of them soaked food makes them feel more full. Dry foods are so nutrient-dense, that the volume of the amount of food that is calorically appropriate for their weight might not come close to filling up their tummies. If their meal is full of water, it definitely increases satiety – that sensation of fullness. They quit walking around the kitchen looking unsatisfied after their meals when their food is soaked.

If you’ve ever soaked your dog’s food, you’re aware of how much dry dog food expands when immersed in water. It’s a little horrifying, actually, to realize how much more space a certain amount of food will require in a dog’s stomach and gut once the dog’s digestive juices hydrate the individual kibbles. It nearly doubles in volume. The kibbles are like little sponges – some more than others. I’ve noticed when soaking food for various foster puppies that some kibble is more resistant to soaking than others.

Neither of my dogs are reluctant or picky eaters, but adding water can definitely increase the palatability of dry food for some dogs.

However, one shouldn’t moisten food and leave it sitting out at room temperature for very long – I would start being concerned about bacterial growth in moistened food that had been left out at room temperature for more than an hour.

Many people believe that feeding soaked food will help prevent bloat. I’m not sure there’s ever been a study that looked at just that, but it would make sense to me. I’m super cautious about exercise for a couple of hours after feeding, too, for the same reason.

Out of curiosity: How many of you moisten or soak your dog’s dry food?