The Escape Artist

For anyone else that has pets, you know how much joy they can bring to your life. So, I suppose taking that statement into account, you could say my life is totally overrun with joy as my husband, Tass, and I are the happy owners of three dogs, two horses and a miniature pig (a whole other story).

I am, and always have been, an animal lover. If I'm having a bad day, I sit and give them cuddles, or take them for a walk, or just watch them playing in the garden and I'll instantly feel better. But there is one particular pet of ours who is, in fact, ruining our lives. Meet Henry.

Of course, he's not actually ruining our lives, just causing us mountains of frustration (though I'll be the first to admit, the situation can be funny sometimes).

Let me explain. Henry escapes. But this isn't your usual "escaping dog" situation. He'll scale great heights, dig trenches oceans deep and even worm his way through holes you'd swear you could barely fit a grape through. And for what you think? Perhaps to go on great adventures, to travel for hours on end digging through rubbish and pigging out on the neighbour's scraps? Nope... 

After his almighty escape, Henry walks around the perimeter of the house, casually strolls to the front door, and patiently waits on the welcome mat until someone comes home - with a look on his face that says: "Oh, someone accidentally locked me out of the house so I'm being ever so good and waiting here until you'd be so kind as to let me back in again."

Unfortunately, we live next to a relatively busy road and it's during his initial perimeter run that we usually receive a phone call from one of the neighbours saying they almost ran him over so we do indeed need to put a stop to it.

Tass and I have spent countless hours... no days... fixing the areas where Henry gets out. And sometimes it even works for a couple of days and we come home to find him safely enclosed with the others (it's at this point it's probably important to mention we have a huge garden so space is not the issue here). But rest assured, it's only a matter of time until he finds some where or some way new to get out again.

It's become a little mission, a challenge for him. And for us. I'll swear when I'm sitting there patching up where he's gotten out, he sits there watching, his expression saying: "Are you serious? You don't think I'll be able to pull that apart? Come on, you can do better than that." 

Today, it's been a straight 24 hours of success for the humans - but we're not lulling ourselves into a fake sense of security yet. No no... that's what he wants us to do. He wants us to feel satisfied that we've fastened the wire on the gate tight enough, that we've nailed the wood palings strong enough, that we've covered the holes well enough. And then when we least expect it, we drive in and there he is. Sitting on the welcome mat. With that expression saying: "You'll never defeat me."

For now all I can do is wait, and hope that the famous Escape Artist has finally met his match. 

...but I'm not holding my breath.