Commentary : Born Free to Run Free? That’s Not the Way It Is in Newport Beach

The Newport Beach police have finally caught up with me. After a year of reckless disregard for the law, I was cited recently for walking my dog off the leash.

My crime is a serious offense in this city of dewy green lawns, sculpted hedges and pristine gardens. In a way, it’s good to have it out in the open. It was tough being on the lam, moving about secretly at dawn and after dark just so my dog could have a good run.

I’ve found that there is a brotherhood of guilty dog owners in Newport Beach who occasionally let their dogs off the leash. I pass these neighbors in the pre-dawn hours, all of us accompanied by dogs running at large.

My partners in crime are the owners of fearsome Scotties, incorrigible dachshunds and sociopathic Lhasa Apsos. Moving furtively down the sidewalk, we share information about the Dawn Patrol of police who issue tickets to leash-law violators.

My life of crime began when I first moved to Lido Isle from Long Beach with my accomplice, a black Labrador retriever named Sophie.

Sophie grew up in a rough part of town, where delinquent puppies tumble and play unrestrained on city sidewalks. Before we moved here, she didn’t know that most city dogs have to live their lives on the end of a leash.

At first we tried to obey the regulations, which are posted on street lights throughout Lido Isle. The warnings start out sternly with “Notice to Dog Owners” and then tell you the regulations for owning a dog in Newport Beach: You can’t walk a dog unless it is restrained by a leash, you must curb and clean up after your dog, and your dog must have a license.

I have no quarrel with the last two rules. Sophie has been an official resident of Newport Beach for more than a year, and she wears her city dog tag with the same pride that prompts some human residents to buy fancy “Newport Beach” license plate frames for their cars. As far as curbing my dog and cleaning up after her, I always carry everything I need to restore a spot that she has visited to its previous condition.

However, I have difficulty with the leash law, which dictates that all dogs, even those with no criminal record, have to be restrained when outdoors. It doesn’t matter if your dog is a wimp or the neighborhood clown. All dogs are treated like hardened criminals under the city’s leash law. No such ruling pertains to the roving gangs of tough cats that terrorize the frightened residents of Lido Isle.

Until I received the citation, I always thought I could reason with the Newport Beach Police Department about the leash law. I figured that if I ever got caught, I would assume a friendly posture and say, “But officer, dogs need to be able to run somewhere.” If necessary, I would pull out Sophie’s diploma from dog obedience school to prove that my dog’s behavior was above reproach.

I would then appeal to the police officer’s sense of fair play and ask, “Why does the city allow cats to roam freely throughout this burg, while society throws the book at man’s best friend?”

I didn’t get a chance to use my finely honed arguments. Before I could finish my opening salvo, the officer allowed that he thought it was indeed a shame that dogs in Newport Beach had no place to run free. He agreed that my dog certainly appeared to be mild-mannered, and he scratched her behind the ears to show it wasn’t a personal thing. But the officer upheld the letter of the law and issued the citation in spite of my brilliant reasoning.

I don’t walk Sophie on Lido Isle without a leash anymore. I’d like to say that I’ve been rehabilitated and that I’ll never break the leash law again. But every once in awhile, when it’s dark and no one can see us, the old urge to run free takes hold, and we’re off on another crime spree in the streets of Newport Beach.