MY friends at google tell me that to “leash” someone means “to closely control someone's actions and allow them very little freedom to do the things they want to do”.

Doesn’t sound great, to be honest.

So, it’s odd that the hound gets excited when I pick up her leash – or lead.

It’s strange: I am about to tie something around her neck and attach a rope that stops her from going more than a meter from me; I am about to give myself the power to pull her back from all the interesting things she wants to do. Yet she seems to be a fan.

There are other things guaranteed to grab her attention. When I open the drawer in which I keep the little black bags, she can hear it no matter where she is in the house.

When I open the cupboard which contains her biscuits, she can appear at my side as if by magic.

And using some unfathomable sixth sense she can hear when one of the teenagers who live in my house rent-free is approaching the homestead even if they remain a good few dozen yards away.

But the lead really does it. When she hears the merest jangle of buckle against cloth, she will sprint downstairs and glide across the floor with determination but a distinct lack of grace.

And then she stares up at me expectantly, incredulous that I have not opened the door.

If I need to waste yet more time getting shoes or keys, she looks at me with an all too well-used stare of disdain.

In essence, she loves a walk. I guess it’s all about exploring. She wants to check on the smells that have appeared since we last went out.

She wants to leave some new messages using the rather dubious and anti-social urine transfer method – wee mail if you will, or perhaps micturition messaging.

She wants to bark at new canine interlopers and check every individual blade of grass on our route.

It doesn’t sound like much fun to me, but it makes her happy. But the main lesson for me?

Beware googling “leashing someone” if you are not alone in the house…

Written by Mark Wall