The Great Escape

It’s come to my notice that my human, who writes another blog, wrote something about me chewing up things and digging holes in the garden when I was a puppy. Now I’m three and have grown up a bit,  I think it’s time I put a bit of perspective on this story. I do have my reputation to consider after all, so here’s my version of things that were written about me when I was 21 months old:

I started living with my humans when I was 4 months old. I’d kind of got over the real baby stage of peeing whenever and wherever I needed to but was still in need of some guidance on getting into the garden for these tasks. I was shooed outside and told to “be busy”. No idea what that meant at all, but they always did this after I’d had a toilet trip indoors. It was a hot summer so the doors were open and the penny soon dropped. I was meant to do it outside.

I must confess that I loved my new home and my humans, maybe even more so now as we've all been together a lot during lockdown. We always get on very well, they're always kind to me and I heard them describe me as “a delightful and interactive dog” Yeah!

I know I’m good with children. I’m always very friendly to them as they’re somehow a bit like puppies and closer to my size. I adore the human’s grandchildren and allow them to play with me, cuddle me, carry me about and at Christmas they put funny sparkly things on my head. I didn’t like it much but put up with it as it made them happy.

I often make noises and speak in “dog”, which the humans don’t understand, but they like it because it’s as though I’m saying “hello” and “chatting”. I sometimes make little howls of excitement too. But when I was a puppy, with new teeth, I had to chew things, I just had to – all puppies do so it was perfectly normal as far as I’m concerned. Here’s what I chewed:

One hairdryer – left unplugged on the bedroom floor and munched to death, wires hanging out of it. They really shouldn’t have left it there; I couldn’t resist it. It was replaced by a new one, is now stored in a cupboard, and that put an end to that game.

Three duvet covers which I pulled off beds as I looked for Kitty, their daughter’s cat who’d been staying. Well I had to pull them off the beds somehow and my teeth were the only way to do this. The humans were not pleased as there were gnawed, ripped bits of fabric.

Three sheets – I confess to doing the same thing with these. Well, I was still searching for that darned cat. They were gnawed and ripped too. Humans were cross about this as well.

The garden fence –  first try. That fence was really old and rickety and was good enough to stop My Great Escape happening when I was a small puppy….but one day….aha! I went missing. I chewed a hole through the bamboo screening attached to their low trellis fence, then squeezed through. Yippee! I had the freedom of the garden backing on to mine and I went searching for Holly, the cat who lives there. But it didn’t last long as the neighbour who lives there took me back home.

There was a conversation about sharing the cost of a new fence, which didn’t sound quite so good. I had to get back into that garden and find that cat.

Some men turned up, looked at the garden and the fence, then went away. In the meantime the humans blocked off that nice hole I’d chewed and any other likely escape routes. Not only that, they supervised all my visits to the garden. That wasn’t much fun. I was being watched.

The garden fence – second try. The men came back and put up a HUGE new high fence. I sat looking intently at that fence, thinking about it, eyeing it up, sizing it up, and I eventually worked out how to get through it and into the other garden.

I dug a hole and went under it. I was very proud of myself and I went racing around that garden to find Holly the cat. It was very frustrating though as she was  sitting inside watching me  through the closed patio doors. My humans tried to get me to come back through the hole I'd dug but I wouldn’t come. One of them tried to get into the garden. But the side gate to it was locked and the neighbour was out. I was getting just a bit anxious by now because I couldn’t get at the cat and I couldn’t face squeezing though the hole I’d dug to get back into my own garden.

My humans lifted one of the bottom panels of the fence and wedged it open. One of them crawled through and got me. When I next went to inspect the hole I’d dug, it had been filled in with some hard stuff. I think it’s called concrete. I couldn’t dig it anyway.

Garden fence - third try – after that I started to stare very hard at other areas of the fence, and I kept disappearing behind the arbour seat thingy in the corner of my garden. I found a way through the corner gap where two panels of the fence meet. Yippee! Freedom! Back in that garden again to find that cat! The humans lifted the bottom fence panel again, one crawled through and got me. Then they blocked up that gap as well. Spoilsports.

Garden fence - fourth try – they didn’t block it enough. Yippee! I  escaped again. Still no sign of the cat, but I have a feeling she was at an upstairs window watching me. The humans did the fence thing and the crawl through thing again and then a barricade appeared in the gap. Not good.

Garden side gate – I discovered this other place around the side of the house and sat looking  at the  side gate (locked) with my nose down on the small gap beneath it. I started to dig. I dug up plants and soil by the gate and the fence next to it. Very quickly bricks and concrete slabs appeared where I’d been digging, but I still sit and look at the gate and fence, ever hopeful, even though I can’t dig there any more.

Garden bench – it wasn’t long before they noticed I’d started digging a hole underneath the seat of the stone bench on the lawn. I heared one of them say “Oh what the hell – he’s a terrier – let him have a bit of fun! And to be honest, we did need a new fence anyway…..”

 

 You can read her version of this story here.