They came for Mike armed with rope sticks, ready to snare him should he lunge at them, teeth bared and snarling, this dangerous dog despot who had, at least to the mind of one unnamed neighbor, terrorized this Taylor Ranch cul-de-sac.
Instead, Mike, a three-legged, arthritic, aging sheltie, just sat there curled on his blue dog bed outside the front door, blinking. Were you able to communicate on his level, he might have asked you what all the fuss was about.
He would not be the only one wondering.
Mike, as it turns out, is as frightening as a fluff ball, which he greatly resembles, his girth half-heft, half-hair.
He is 9, a senior citizen in sheltie years. He is gentle. He only halfheartedly barks at visitors and passers-by and those cats down the block.
He rarely strays from his dog bed, barely able to scoot around much because of the missing right rear paw and a portion of leg, a deformity since birth.
“He walks with his back leg crossed, like he’s contorted,” says his human, Marvin Teitelbaum, a mariachi player and retired music and education teacher of the developmentally disabled. “He can barely get around, but he’s in no pain.”
Mike does not run. He does not lunge and, near as I can tell, he does not snarl or bare his teeth.
“He’s not an attack dog by any means,” next-door neighbor Carol Pond says, chuckling at the thought. “He’s a sweet dog, and he doesn’t cause any trouble, from what I’ve seen.”
Mike spends his days as he has for many years, lolling on his dog bed stationed in front of the house on Prairie Sage NW.
(Mike’s parents, Chester and Abbey, also reside at the home, though they prefer the backyard and inside.)
“Mike just likes laying in the sun out here on his cushion,” Teitelbaum says. “Neighbors come by and give him love. He’s got his water dish. He likes to watch the cars go by.”
Mike is such a fixture that you can see him for yourself if you Google his street.
Still, two officers from the Albuquerque Animal Welfare were dispatched Jan. 10 to hunt down Mike, who was, of course, where he always is: in the front yard, near the front door, bothering no one.
“You can’t keep your dog outside anymore,” they told Teitelbaum, handing him a citation for violating the city’s animal restraint/leash law, part of the infamous and overbearing HEART Ordinance.
Because Teitelbaum could not unearth the dogs’ papers from years’ worth of records, he was also cited for not having city licenses for the dogs.
That, he isn’t worried about. The dogs, he says, have all their licenses, papers, shots, microchips, spays and neuters. He’ll find the licenses in time for his first appearance in Metro Court on Jan. 30.
But it’s the leash law that irks him.
“If Mike was a nuisance, I wouldn’t let him stay in the front yard,” he says. “I don’t want to make a big issue of this, but I truly feel that Mike should be able to live out his days in peace without being harassed. As long as he is not hurting anyone or causing a disturbance, I don’t see what the problem is.”
Teitelbaum says Mike’s disability should be considered.
But he may not have a legal leg to stand on. Under the city leash law, all pets must be restricted at all times by either a secure fence, a secure facility or a secure enclosure or be on a leash no longer than 8 feet, held by a person able to control the pet. (See? Overbearing.)
Penalties include up to 90 days in jail, up to a $500 fine or a four-hour stint in the city’s “responsible pet school,” says Animal Welfare Capt. Albert Marquez.
And, yes, for those obnoxious pets that habitually prowl the neighborhoods, chase cars, bite the kiddies, it’s good that this law has some teeth.
But Mike?
Teitelbaum’s front yard, like all the other front yards on the street, has no fence. The only restriction Mike needs, Teitelbaum says, is his pawlessness.
Marquez says the law is there to assure the safety of all concerned, even Mike.
“What can happen is a stray dog could be running loose and there’s a possibility that it will have contact with the dog in the yard, and it can get ugly,” he says. “What else can happen is that while a dog is attacking the other dog the owner tries to get involved to stop them, and the owner is liable to get bitten.”
All of which sounds like so much hypothetical hogwash to neighbor Pond.
“That’s not a valid concern – that’s crazy,” she says. “I’ve lived here 15 years and haven’t seen any stray attack dogs.”
Teitelbaum is not sure what he will do, though he’s leaning toward taking a stand for a dog that can barely stand.
“With all the problems out there, you’d think the city would have more important things to worry about,” he says.
And then there is the niggling question of who on this quiet, friendly cul-de-sac would have turned in Mike.
Were you able to communicate on his level, Mike might have told you whom he suspects: those cats down the block.
That makes as much sense as anything in this case.
UpFront is a daily front-page news and opinion column. Comment directly to Joline Gutierrez Krueger at 823-3603, jkrueger@abqjournal.com or follow her on Twitter @jolinegkg. Go to www.abqjournal.com/letters/new to submit a letter to the editor.
— This article appeared on page A1 of the Albuquerque Journal
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