Gail Fisher, All Dogs Gym & Inn - The perfect place for pets and their people

N.H. Sunday News - Dog Tracks Column - 8/22/10
By: Gail T. Fisher

It is with great chagrin, humility and embarrassment that I write this column ... which will be a surprise to even my friends and co-workers. Cannon, our Bearded Collie, who escaped from our back yard twice last year, did it again. After his first two adventures—one of which happened after the wind storm when the fence was damaged—we had repaired, replaced and strengthened the fence perimeter, even laying cement in a critical area so he couldn’t dig under. To the best of our knowledge, he had given up trying to “see the world” and was contentedly spending his outdoor time with our mixed-breed, Kochi, just relaxing and hanging out in the fresh air.

But as I was preparing the dogs’ dinner, almost ready to call them in from the yard, I got a phone call from the Emergency Clinic announcing they had my dog. It can’t be, I thought. After all, he’s safely fenced in the yard. Oh no he wasn’t. A Beardie with a microchip with my contact information had been found making friends with a Scottish Terrier about a quarter of a mile (as the crow flies, or the dog runs) from my home. The Scottie’s owners, our neighborly good Samaritans, had driven across town to the Emergency Clinic to see if he had a microchip. Fortunately he did—I had had one implanted after his first adventure last year.

Cannon is fine—and thankfully I hadn’t even had a chance to panic on finding him having escaped yet again. His rescuers offered to bring him home from the Emergency Clinic, and while I waited for Cannon’s return, I walked the perimeter of the yard to find the escape hatch. Sure enough, a portion of older, weaker fencing had some broken wire with just enough room for Cannon to scuff his way through and under. It has since been replaced.

When these nice people brought him home—tired and happy from his adventure—they mentioned that, after they scanned his microchip, the Emergency Clinic personnel expressed the hope that whoever owned the dog had taken the next step: had registered the microchip with their contact information so he could be reunited with them. I had done that. After all, what’s the point of having permanent identification implanted in your dog if there’s no way for you to be contacted if your dog happens to be found by someone? They suggested that I let others know of the importance of doing this—which is certainly the least I can do both to thank them, and try to ensure that other “lost” dogs have the same happy reunion that we had with Cannon.

The bad news for us is that, having now been successful getting out three times, Cannon continues to try. He’s had nothing but good times and fun adventures each time he’s gotten loose, and it will likely be quite awhile before he stops testing the fencing for a new weakness. Interestingly, although Kochi is half his size, and could easily have followed Cannon out through the small hole in the fence, he has never tried to escape. If he could talk, I think he’d tell Cannon, “Don’t be an idiot. I’ve lived on the streets. I’ve been a homeless stray—you have no idea how good you have it!”

When they were reunited, Kochi was very cute greeting Cannon—doing wheelies around him in the yard as I carefully watched to make sure Cannon didn’t try to get out again. As cute as it was to watch, I can easily live without having another reunion under these circumstances. I am so very grateful to the kind people who went out of their way to make sure he made it home. Thank you!

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