A little escape artist
My two dogs have very distinct personalities which get them into trouble on a regular basis.
Toby is kind of goofy, a bit of doofus – not dumb by any means – but definitely stubborn. His little friend and partner in crime, Buster is the real brains of the operation. When you look at him patrolling the house, you can almost see the wheels turning in his little dog brain.
We thought our new house had the perfect set up for our fur boys. A fenced in backyard allows them to run and play and sniff and chase squirrels to their hearts content. We thought that they were safely contained thanks to the six-foot fence. We were wrong.
Yesterday, with the sun shining and the snow melting, I let the boys out to race around the yard. A phone call pulled me away from the back door – I usually stand and keep an eye on them so they don’t bark too much. But when I returned, I called to them and Toby came bounding into the house and sat obediently on the kitchen floor waiting for his dog biscuit treat. Buster, however, was no where to be seen.
I called him several times and there was no response. Yelling “Treats” at the top of my lungs usually brings the boys (and other neighborhood dogs, I would imagine) scurrying to the door. But not this time. I walked out to the back fence line and noticed that there was a burrowed spot near the alley. The little stinker had found the only opening in the fence.
I walked around the perimeter of the fence and saw him sniffing around a vacant lot nearby. He saw me, wagged his tail when I called his name and then bolted when I got within a foot of him.
As I started to walk back, I noticed he had turned around and was following me. I kept walking back to the house and in the back door. I left the screen door just slightly ajar. He was able to nose it open and come back inside. Buster, unlike Toby, did not receive his dog biscuit for coming when called.
I walked back around the fence line and found his spot. An old plank that was stashed in the garage provided an awesome block for his escape route. And we haven’t had any further runaway incidents.
Buster did, however, seem to give me a dirty look the next time he went outside. He ran back to his former escape tunnel and found it closed. Without even a bark or woof, he turned and sauntered right past me back into the house and settled on the floor with a big sigh.
We moms can be such killjoys sometimes.