Thursday, March 21, 2023

I knew he’d start digging as soon as high temperatures warmed the earth enough.

Last night, after I had arrived home and entered the house, all my dogs suddenly sounded off noisily, warning distinctively of something significant and different occurring. I looked out a window for what was making them bark. Suddenly, I spotted little Mitzvah–outside the fence! She was running freely and teasing the other dogs.

I muttered, “Chase!” and hurried to grab a flashlight. He was still inside the fenced area, and it was imperative to find his dig before he enlarged it and could slip under the fence to freedom. Soon, outside in the darkness, I was running with a flashlight, searching the fence’s perimeter, accompanied by a now-hyper-Mitzvah and the chorus of barking dogs.

I spotted his dig in a distant spot that I’ve always assumed was too rocky, one he’d never manage to dig much into. Now, there was a hole nearly deep and wide enough for him to slip his fifty pounds of heft under. I tossed loose rocks from nearby into the dig, blocking it.

That blocking is temporary. Clearly, he’ll again dig through in this spot or another. I don’t know how to prevent digging into the inviting damp soil and escaping. Ahead, it’ll help that I’ll soon start working fewer hours away from home. (The managers at my workplace recognize that I’ve had too many working hours and will reduce them.)

Meanwhile, starting today, and whenever I’m away for long periods, Chase will wait for me in solitary confinement–still outdoors, but in a large standalone kennel. It’s surrounded by six-foot fencing, has a covering over its top, and guess what: its flooring is all concrete.

Dear Friends: I won’t toss a towel on continuing to try managing the Puppy from Hell! Diana