Monday, March 18, 2024

My puppy, Chase, is turning two years old and is still a handful. I adopted the then adorable eight-week-old in a whimsical moment that, on reflection, was more like craziness. After a few first weeks of purely cute ‘n cuddly, Chase began to evolve into what became a nearly unending handful.

He soon started to Boing (remember Gerald?), easily making high leaps that hoisted him upward and onto any fencing. There, his toes found grips, and Chase simply climbed and escaped. I spent many weeks adjusting my six-foot fence into anti-escape corralling.

The ever-growing Chase (Rottweiler/Shephard mix) became heavier, remained very muscular, and continued his boinging. So far, my corralling has reduced his successes. Once foiled, Chase turned to digging. With the high energy and determination letting him leap, Chase up-earths spots throughout a fenced half-acre. I cautiously tread there to avoid holes.

These days, Chase escapes through holes under the fencing. In sudden freedoms, the one place Chase knows to go is to our neighbor’s. There, so far, and luckily, Frank leashes and brings Chase home. After each escape, I haul as many rocks and heavy junk as possible to set alongside the fence, anti-escaping material.

In the past couple of months, Chase has had to cope with frozen earth, slowing his digging. Now warmer days make me start looking again for what he’ll do next.

As he approached turning a year old, I seriously planned to rehome Chase. He seemed very adoptable–was lovely in temperament, super-smart, and a devoted buddy. Interrupting my intention was knowing the great efforts needed to contain him. I doubted others would have enough patience and resources to ensure his safety.

So, he’s still here, and I’m more hopeful. FB postings and my readings in general teach that there’s a “magic time.” It’s when a dog turns three years old and settles, finally, into maturity. I keep reminding myself that Chase’s maturity is only one year away. If I remain patient, all signs point to him being a perfect companion by then.

Dear Friends: He’s an anomaly; otherwise, none of us would do any puppy-raising. Diana