It’s a beautiful summer day in Venice, California, and everyone seems to be out enjoying the beach—except for me.

I am profoundly autistic. As a result, I may jump up and down at strange moments or laugh uncontrollably. I cannot speak at all except for a few rote phrases, though I can write with the aid of a letter board or electronic device. And I am profoundly afraid of the dogs off their leashes that seem to be everywhere, especially in summertime.

It does not matter how small or large the dog is or whether it is well-behaved or not. Moreover, I’m not the only autistic person who panics around dogs. I am not sure why so many of us respond this way. I suspect it may have something to do with the fact that dogs are unpredictable and can bark loudly, sound being another sensitivity for me and most other autistics. When a dog approaches me, it inspires such anxiety that I cannot calm down for many hours afterward. My heart beats in my chest until I fear it is going to explode. My synapses flood with adrenaline, and I get unmanageably nervous. I cannot relax, no matter how hard I try.

This means that I often have to leave public spaces when dogs are present. It breaks my heart that I cannot participate in many summer outings with my family because of the ubiquitous presence of dogs. The constant presence of dogs outdoors is one more way in which my already circumscribed life as a person with autism has become even more circumscribed.

You might say my dilemma captures a clash between two ways of thinking about the public—not only the physical spaces we share but who is allowed access to them—one from pet lovers and another from the disabled. Both approaches are well-meaning: They seek to expand people’s horizons, and fiercely defend the rights of their subjects. Pets help us to see that our world is not just for human beings—we share community with all sorts of non-human beings as well. The disabled show that there are many different ways to be human, all of them valuable.

In an ideal world, all would be welcome. But at present, the situation is weighted toward pets and away from the disabled. The irony is that, according to prevailing laws, dogs are not allowed in many of the places that I end up having to leave.

Take, for example, the beach, which is my happy place. The rhythm of the waves helps me feel relaxed and grounded. The sound is so soothing that I do not have to wear the noise-canceling headphones that I keep glued to my ears almost everywhere else, including when I sleep. I can spend hours playing in the waves.

Los Angeles County law states that “A person shall not bring or maintain on any beach a dog or cat.” There are large signs on many Los Angeles beaches reminding people of this statute. Yet lots of people use the beach as a giant exercise area for their dogs. Moreover, they seldom leash their dogs, meaning their pets run at me, bark at me, sniff me, and climb all over me.

Another summer space I treasure is the farmers market. I love to stroll through the stands, checking out the produce. It smells enchanting and offers a vision of small, natural farms tended by real, friendly people—often there selling their own harvest, picked only hours before. One of my favorite summer joys is eating a fresh, ripe strawberry from these markets.

Here, too, California’s Health and Safety Code mandates that dogs be “kept at least 20 feet (6 meters) away from any mobile food facility, temporary food facility, or certified farmers market.” Again, prominent signs are posted at the entrance to every market. Despite this, dogs roam everywhere.

Another special place for me is the park near our apartment. It is one of the few open spaces close to where we live, and one of the few places I can ride my bike or go skateboarding when the weather is nice. Dogs have their own fenced run in the park where they are supposed to play off their leashes, yet owners insist on letting them run anywhere and everywhere unleashed. When dogs come up to me and want to play, their owners often smile as if it is cute. Instead, I have to leave—or risk a full-blown panic attack.

I am sure pet owners have no idea of the dilemma that they are placing me in. Since I cannot talk, I cannot even politely engage the violators. Instead, I am the one who ends up looking strange, having a giant meltdown in front of everyone. It feels unfair that the onus is on me to figure out how to cope, rather than on dog owners to show some basic consideration and follow the law. When my parents try to explain what is going on, they are typically met with hostility. To me, it is as though dog owners think that their pets have more rights than I do.

As Nicholas Kristof discussed in a recent piece in the New York Times, a majority of dog owners now consider their animals members of their family and spend an incredible amount of money on special food, clothing, and other products for them. It is beautiful that people love their pets so much. But it should not come at the cost of downplaying the needs of the disabled.

I recognize that there is a place in the discussion for service animals. Our neighbor is blind and uses a seeing-eye dog named Ellie. She is a very smart and well-trained animal, and she is always leashed when outside. Although Ellie still makes me nervous, I can manage—in part because she is so well-behaved, and in part because I recognize that her owner has a legitimate need to use her. As another disabled person, I realize that my neighbor needs her service dog to participate fully in public life.

Even though the ordinances outlawing dogs at the beach, in farmers markets, or in public parks were not passed with disabled people in mind, they have become de facto disability rights measures. They let disabled people like myself gain access to some of the few public spaces available. This is especially true in summer, when we all want to enjoy the outdoors.

I know that dog owners do not mean to exclude us, but through their carelessness, this is exactly what they are doing.

And I understand that I don’t have all the answers. One small step toward a solution might be to have lifeguards, farmers market managers, and park officials monitor peoples’ behavior more closely.

More meaningful change, however, will only come with a shift in perspective: recognizing the presence of autistic people and believing that we deserve a place in society. For much of our history, we have been locked away and institutionalized—out of sight and out of mind. We are only now emerging from the shadows to join the rest of you.

It would be a joy to step into public space without fear, knowing that my fellow beachgoers who have dogs have accommodated me so that I, too, can enjoy the idle dog days of summer.