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A dog day afternoon in the city – Metro US

A dog day afternoon in the city

If you were asked in which Canadian city a dog appeared before a hearing of a quasi-judicial human rights body this week, Ottawa would be a good guess — and entirely correct.

Dee-O-Gee, a chihuahua belonging Carleton Place resident Alex Allarie, was at the heart of an Ontario Human Rights Tribunal hearing here. Allarie argued that Dee-O-Gee, who helps him with his anxiety and depression, counts as a service animal, equivalent to, say, a seeing-eye dog, and hence is authorized to accompany him inside businesses.

Ottawa is not only home to many tribunals, but also many dogs. While 29,000 are registered, the city estimates another 73,000 to 97,000 live here off the record. (Perhaps it is dog owners who require obedience training).

I’m aware that there are also many Ottawa cats, and cat people, the prime minister’s family among them, and in most North American cities, cats outnumber dogs three to one. Certainly it’s much easier to find a quick can of cat food than of dog food at the corner store.

But most urban felines are shut-ins, glimpsed on windowsills, if at all. Dogs are the ones we see on the streets, taking part in urban life. It’s a complex environment, rife with traffic, crowded sidewalks and tantalizing distractions from the hotdog cart to the ubiquitous squirrel, and yet the typical city dog navigates it with remarkable street smarts.

It’s not uncommon to see them padding alongside their humans sans leash, or waiting more or less patiently outside stores for errands to be completed. Some establishments are more enlightened than others. My friendly neighbourhood video store not only welcomes dogs inside but keeps Milkbones on-hand, so mine’s now a bit of a cineaste. (Thanks to the complexities of the modern family, I have custody of a dog on weekends).

Dogs are social animals, even when Ottawans are not. A lot of daily life in this oft-stuffy city seems to involve pretending the next person isn’t there. The dog is an excuse to crack that reserve, smile at dog, nod at owner and move on, or even ask a quick question about breed or age. Presto! You’ve talked to a stranger.

None of which is to say human-canine relations always run so smoothly. A couple of years ago, one little varmint came charging across a park barking at me for no reason I could discern, and promptly bit my leg just above the knee. His horrified owner assured me this behaviour was unprecedented, which was small consolation. On balance, though, I’ve had worse run-ins with humans.