Lucy has finally been able to enjoy the freedom of a fenced-in yard. Our yard has been fenced on all sides but the front. A few weeks ago JB and his dad erected a fence to go across the front of the house on the right side, but we had to be a little more creative with the driveway side. Our driveway is flanked very closely by the neighbor’s fence and our house, so there is no way to get a gated fence in there and still be able to fit our cars down the driveway.
JB had noticed some neighbors doing this, so we copied them by buying a little doggie fence thing that we can stretch across the driveway when we go outside with Lucy, but can easily move when we need to pull a car in. We’ve considered ourselves lucky that Lucy is terrified of inanimate objects, especially ones that can move, like the gate. We took a gamble with the 2-ft high fence, as it was cheaper and easier to transport in and out of the house.
And it works. Lucy is afraid of the thing. And really, she doesn’t care about getting out, because there are far more fascinating things in our yard, like squirrels, birds, and this little chipmunk that lives in the wall of our garage that she is determined to catch, etc. She also doesn’t like being away from JB or I, and since we’re usually in the backyard with her, she’s quite content.
I’ve been a bit sick lately with stupid pregnancy crap, and on Tuesday I had overworked myself making a pie for Grandpa Hunt’s birthday (he and Grandma came over that night), making a nice dinner, and cleaning up the downstairs for company. When JB got home, Lucy and I went out to meet him. I was exhausted and so glad to see him.
As we are talking by the car, Lucy hears children’s voices out front. She races down the drive, barreling toward the gate with break-neck speed. “She’s totally going to smash into the gate and have a meltdown!” I think.
Then it happens.
The impossible that is totally possible with Lucy, the circus dog.
She leaps. Her little doggie legs spring her puppy-sized body into the air and she sails over the fence to sweet freedom.
I start to walk quickly toward the fence, because my wardrobe of flipflops and extra long pants, coupled with my breaking-down pregnancy body, won’t let me run.
The piercing screams of terrified little girls fill the air. They scream and scream, certain that Lucy is going to eat them alive.
JB is still standing there, in shock, I think. I turn to him and say, “Get your ass out there!! You’ve got tennis shoes on!!!”
The screams continue, and I am afraid that the girls’ parents are going to come out of their houses and club our dog to death for frightening their children.
When JB gets on the scene, Lucy has not left our yard. He calls to her and she stops barking and sits down for him. The little girls are across the street, all in a tizzy. They’ve met Lucy before, but that was when she was on a leash, and not running at them full tilt, barking like a mad dog. JB apologized and said, “She won’t ever hurt you! She’s a big scaredy cat!” The littlest girl, about 7, said in a polite voice, “Well, I was bit by a dog before and I didn’t know what was going to happen!”
I felt awful.
JB brought Lucy across the street to meet the girls again, and she was all sweetness and tail-wagging. The girls pet her and JB tried to reassure them.
No parents came out with clubs.
We’re safe. For now.
But now Lucy has found our kryptonite. And anyone who knows Lucy knows that she could even scale a three-foot fence, or probably even a four-foot, if she really wanted to.
I’ve been keeping a wary eye on her. Every time she trots down the driveway I call out to her, and she comes back. But I can’t keep that act up forever. And I’m really worried about the day that she sees a stray dog and jumps the fence to yell at it. And the stray dog murders her.
I told Lucy that we’re going to have to string barbed wire across her gate now. That she’s been sanctioned to doggie Alkatraz. I don’t think she gets it though and I really don’t feel like taking care of a doggie with barbed wire cuts on her belly.