It’s a Friday afternoon in May of 2021, and my mom meets me on my walk home from school. She brings my dog, Sonic, who’s happy to see me. We pause on the way home to decorate his collar with yellow dandelions.
Turning out of Superior Community Park and into our neighborhood, we catch sight of a Great Dane, walking nearly 40 feet ahead of its owner. It’s as big as a deer. I barely have time to process it before the dog sees us and starts barreling down the hill.
The Great Dane is twice Sonic’s size. When it reaches us, it hits him so hard that the leash is almost yanked out of my mom’s hand. The dogs tumble into the grass in a mass of snarling teeth and fur.
I still remember how helpless I felt watching my dog writhe on the ground in the jaws of that giant Great Dane. I saw a flash of red that looked like his stomach had been torn open. Sonic yelped and barked, fighting for his life under the weight of the much larger dog. I remember my mom holding desperately onto the leash, screaming at the Dane’s owner to get his dog off Sonic.
The other owner finally managed to catch his dog’s collar and pull it away, but the damage had been done.
Sonic couldn’t sleep alone that night. Dressed in an old T-shirt of my dad’s and a cone to keep him from licking his fresh stitches, he whined every second he wasn’t touching my mom, who slept next to him on the floor.
And that was just the temporary con-sequence. Now, he’s afraid of and reactive to other dogs, even though we spent years and hundreds of dollars on training him before the attack.
So imagine my surprise in October of the same year, when I got a call from my dad asking me to help look for Sonic, who ran away after being attacked again by—take a guess—the same Great Dane.
And imagine my disbelief when—four days after that—I saw the same owner strolling through Superior Community Park, his Great Dane ten feet ahead and leash-less.
To his credit, the owner agreed to pay for Sonic’s medical bills both times. However, the attacks should never have happened in the first place, and even though the Dane was leashed for the second one, inattention and irresponsibility on the owner’s part allowed it to happen again.
We eventually worked out a plan to ensure that our dogs wouldn’t cross paths. The plan also clearly determined that he would keep his dog on leash in our Superior neighborhood, where it’s required by law.
We also had to get Animal Control involved. My parents contacted them after the first incident, trying to get the leash law enforced more strictly. The Superior Animal Control is finally taking a more active approach and addressing non-abiding dog walkers on paths and greenbelts, but only when calls alert them to the problem.
Both Louisville and Superior require dog owners to keep their dogs on leash outside of designated areas, like dog parks and trails. Violation of this law can result in warnings or fines.
Here’s the thing that some people don’t seem to understand: it doesn’t matter if your dog is friendly or if they look happier trotting along without a leash. It doesn’t even matter if your dog is perfectly trained. If there’s a leash law in effect, it applies to everybody. It’s not an option or a request—it’s a requirement to keep everyone safe.
My dog isn’t friendly to other dogs anymore. He’s not the brightest, and he likes to hold his tail in a way that’s apparently offensive to other dogs, but he won’t attack your dog. We also keep him leashed responsibly. The problem only arises when off-leash dogs approach him.
When you take your dog out for a walk without a leash, you’re not only breaking the law; you’re also endangering my dog, your dog, and every other resident you pass. Imagine if a toddler got caught in the middle of a savage dog fight, or if a child tried to separate two brawling dogs—people have lost fingers or sustained worse injuries this way.
Your dog’s enjoyment of a walk is not worth the risk.