Golden Rule: Unless It’s an Off-Leash Golden

Shocked. And disappointed. Yet again. Another off-leash dog encounter... and another entitled man unable to handle accountability.

No harm done physically this time, but here’s the story:

There’s a man in my neighborhood who walks a Golden Retriever — a dog that years ago charged Grady and Tuli from over a football field away while we were on a run. We weren’t even near its house, but it came hard and angry. Territorial. Aggressive. No leash. No control. I saw it coming and escaped by running into a neighbor’s yard. The dog still stood five feet away, snarling and snapping as I dragged my dogs out of reach. No bite — but clear threat.

I didn’t report it at the time. Regrettably. Because let’s be honest: No bite, no foul. That’s how it often goes.

Fast forward a few years. Same dog, now older. I see the man walking it on leash. I calmly tell him, “A few years ago, your dog charged mine. It was really intense. If it happens again, it could go badly for your dog — or someone else’s.” His dog is snarling at Grady as I speak. He barely responds. No acknowledgment. Just walks off.

Fast forward again — this man is now walking the dog off leash. Around the block. Staring at his phone. No leash in sight. I trail him discreetly to confirm: yep. Same dog. Same guy. Same house.

I even witness the Golden bark and react at an Akita while off leash. The man staggers to grab the dog and then giggles, “Oh, you’re so silly, why’d you bark?”

I’m sorry, what?!

A few days later I’m walking Buster and Tuli. And here he comes. I pull my dogs far off the road. Get my pepper spray ready. And I calmly say again: “You know your dog tried to attack mine several years ago.”

He responds: “Yes, you told me.”

So I ask — because honestly I was beginning to think I’d imagined it all: “Then why is your dog off leash?”

His face twists. His voice sharpens:“My dog didn’t bite your dogs. That wasn’t an attack. And for crying out loud — it’s a Golden Retriever.”

I’m stunned.

That’s your defense? It’s a Golden, so it’s incapable of aggression? You know what else Goldens are? Frequently listed in bite statistics. Right up there with doodles.

So I say: “He charged from a house away, teeth bared. I’m a dog trainer. I know what aggression looks like.”

Cue meltdown.

He starts screaming at me — I mean, full voice. People walking by with kids literally moved away. He tells me I must be a terrible trainer because my dogs are barking. I’m the problem. His dog is perfect.

He flings out his hand, shows off the dog sitting still, as if to prove something. Sir.... That’s not training. That’s either a shock collar shutdown or a board-and-train mask job. I’ve seen it. I know the difference.

He continues yelling:

• “You need a new career.”

• “You’re awful at your job.”

• “You need to GO AWAY. GO AWAY. JUST GO AWAY.”

This is a man in his 60s. Middle of the day. Screaming in a suburban neighborhood.

It’s deranged. But also — sadly — familiar.

What I’ve Learned:

95% of off-leash encounters come with attitude. Not awareness. Not humility. Attitude.

And I’m tired.

I’m tired of being made to feel crazy for prioritizing safety. I’m tired of being screamed at for calmly pointing out dangerous behavior. I’m tired of seeing dogs like mine get labeled “reactive” because of one preventable encounter.

Final Thought:

I’m not a fun-ruiner. I’m not the leash police. I’m someone who’s seen what happens when one off-leash moment ruins years of careful training — or worse.

So when I speak up, it’s not to judge. It’s to protect.

And the ones who scream the loudest? Are usually the ones who know deep down — they’re wrong.