I run with this one dog who loves to walk. When his owner grabs the leash, he jumps up and down, gets all excited about going for a walk.

He gets the leash clipped on his collar and he pulls on the lease the entire way. But, when his owner lets go of the lease in the middle of the walk, he just stops.

“You can run,” I tell him! But, he doesn’t.

“The leash is on me,” he says, “where could I possibly go?”

I don’t walk with a leash, much to the angst of the Englewood police department. They stop us every few weeks and ask us if we are on a leash. Since the statute doesn’t technically require it, I never get a ticket. But, they still try.

I know I could run at any time. I would not starve nor get cold because I can hunt food and find shelter anywhere. I am still a dog.

I choose to stay with my owner cause he is a really cool guy, loves me to death and edits my blog. (I make a lot of typos cause I have no thumbs.. hard to hit the space bar.) He chooses to stay with me for all sorts of reasons, mostly cause I’m there for him as well. Because he doesn’t put a leash on me, I am free to sniff the neighbors bushes, pee on any tree I want, dally over a smelly something on the sidewalk; things we dogs NEED. And he understands that.

But, I always come back to walk at his side. Not because he attaches me to a leash, but because I choose it.