Bad Start
Wake up this morning and see it's too foggy to ride to work. Can't even see the bamboo half-way down the driveway. That's no good. Oh well can't ride everyday.
Go to take the dog out before I leave for work. I put on his new Invisible Fence collar and we head out the door. He sniffs the grass a little in the front yard, does his thing, then we head over to the garage. No sooner then we get there and he's off! He's tearing down the driveway after something I can't see or smell. As he nears the fence line I yell "Back!", "Back!" - the command you're supposed to give when he gets near the fence. Like all the times before when he bolts, I don't exist. He hears nothing - totally focused on whatever it is he thinks he's going to catch. I cringe as he crosses where he should get zapped. Nothing. He's flying.
I start to freak out a little as I realize he's headed for the road. I start running. He crosses the street and is gone. I make the 200yrd run down the driveway to the other side of the street. I stop and listen for the jingle of his tags. He's at the school running in circles. There's men on the roof watching. He stops and takes a dump in front of the school.
Furious only begins to describe how I feel, though a little rediculous fits too. Suddenly he realizes I'm there and he's in trouble. At first he won't come to me knowing he's dead. He relents and accepts his fate. I grab his collar and take him home.
I walk him back over the fence to make sure it worked. He squirms a little, but not enough to deter him from running over it again.
The collar needs more juice.
The whole reason I got the fence was to stop his sprints. He's done this forever. Usually it's a cat, dog or some other animal he decides he has to be with immediately. When he takes off there's no stopping him. He understands the property boundries. That's never an issue. It's the inspiration to run that's an issue. It's instinct. At eleven years old his instinct is still a pain in my ass.
My biggest fear is the roads. Only the object of his focus exists when he takes off. Cars, SUVs, dumptrucks mean nothing.
It's back on the leash till I get the collar cranked up.
I have to remember to get the poop out of my car (stopped at the school on my way to work).
Go to take the dog out before I leave for work. I put on his new Invisible Fence collar and we head out the door. He sniffs the grass a little in the front yard, does his thing, then we head over to the garage. No sooner then we get there and he's off! He's tearing down the driveway after something I can't see or smell. As he nears the fence line I yell "Back!", "Back!" - the command you're supposed to give when he gets near the fence. Like all the times before when he bolts, I don't exist. He hears nothing - totally focused on whatever it is he thinks he's going to catch. I cringe as he crosses where he should get zapped. Nothing. He's flying.
I start to freak out a little as I realize he's headed for the road. I start running. He crosses the street and is gone. I make the 200yrd run down the driveway to the other side of the street. I stop and listen for the jingle of his tags. He's at the school running in circles. There's men on the roof watching. He stops and takes a dump in front of the school.
Furious only begins to describe how I feel, though a little rediculous fits too. Suddenly he realizes I'm there and he's in trouble. At first he won't come to me knowing he's dead. He relents and accepts his fate. I grab his collar and take him home.
I walk him back over the fence to make sure it worked. He squirms a little, but not enough to deter him from running over it again.
The collar needs more juice.
The whole reason I got the fence was to stop his sprints. He's done this forever. Usually it's a cat, dog or some other animal he decides he has to be with immediately. When he takes off there's no stopping him. He understands the property boundries. That's never an issue. It's the inspiration to run that's an issue. It's instinct. At eleven years old his instinct is still a pain in my ass.
My biggest fear is the roads. Only the object of his focus exists when he takes off. Cars, SUVs, dumptrucks mean nothing.
It's back on the leash till I get the collar cranked up.
I have to remember to get the poop out of my car (stopped at the school on my way to work).
posted by JenBob at
3:22 PM
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