I'm shaking. But I'm typing. This is that important.
I took Jack for a walk this afternoon, and we were walking past a yard when some dogs came rushing the fence barking ferociously. Suddenly, I had a leash in my hand, and Jack was at the fence barking back at them. Loose. Loose, in somebody's sideyard, with the street and the coming-home-after-work traffic about 100 feet away.
The snap pulled away from his leash. It was still attached to his harness.
I yelled Stay! and he stayed. Thank God, thank God. He stood there without moving and waited for me to get the leash around his neck in a slipknot and we made it home. I couldn't speak, which worked to my advantage because he thought I was madder than I've ever been at him and he was meek & obedient as a lamb on his makeshift tether. And we made it home. Thank God.
The leash is two years old. I didn't know the snap could just pull away from it. If we had been on the other side of the street from the yard with the dogs...
I am going to go buy a new leash and then I'm going to have a drink. I have still not spoken to Jack, who is lying here in shame, but breathing. In big, big trouble, but alive. Thank God, thank God.
Please go hug your doodles and then check their leashes. And then you can have a drink too if you feel like it. Drink a toast to luck and training and the Grace of God.