Meet my dog Stewie. I got him from the pound, and they told me he was a black lab mix. I'm guessing he's mixed with kangaroo, because he jumped my SIX FOOT HIGH fence a record four times this week! (He also jumped the fence at the dog park twice, but he came back on his own in under two minutes each time.) So this week I've spent a lot more time than I planned with my dog, the farm store, and my fence.
I'm thinking about putting up an electric fence, but they are a.) costly and b.) complicated. So while I weigh the pros and cons and feasibility, I'm putting about 18 inches of chicken wire on the top of my fence, all the way around (oh boy, won't my neighbors love me!). I've been playing the proverbial whack-a-mole, putting chicken wire up in places where he has succeeded or tried jumping. So I'm cutting to the chase and putting it up everywhere--and praying he doesn't figure out how to dig under the fence!
While I'm finishing the full implementation of the Stewie Containment System©, Stewie is always on the leash or tie out. He's really pathetic on the tie out, just sitting at the end of it, looking at me pleadingly, with those big brown eyes. I have to say, "No! You can't pull the cute card on me! This is for your own health and safety!"
While I was wrestling with the bamboo, chicken wire, and staple gun, thinking I should have grabbed my safety goggles so my eyes don't get poked out, it is interesting what verse popped in my head.
I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go;
I will counsel you with my eye upon you.
Be not like a horse or a mule, without understanding,
which must be curbed with bit and bridle,
or it will not stay near you.
In response to this verse, I think, "Exactly! If only Stewie would stay put, or learn to come when called, we could be out walking and playing, instead of me bleeding from bamboo splinters and chicken wire pokes. Hmm, when was my last tetanus shot, anyway?" Then I remember this is a psalm of David, not Dr. Doolittle, and it's addressed to me, not Stewie. And I think, "Ouch," and not (only) because of splinters. The horse and mule is without understanding, but it is implied that I am to have understanding. What fences, what heavy handed hemming in of circumstance, do I try to escape? How much more fun could God and I have if I yielded sooner? Hmm. I'll let you know how Stewie does with his fences, as I ponder how I'm doing with mine.