Tragedy strikes my dog
In order to tell this story, you have to know some backstory. First of all, I've described how my dogs are very competitive, and you should know that this competitive streak does not end with our yard. Beyond the six-foot privacy fence we have encircling our yard, there is a small yappy dog that enjoys competing with our dogs in something akin to the Olympics of barking. The rules go something like this: One dog runs to the fence and barks. The other dogs run to the fence and start barking in return. Repeat. The victory conditions on this game are not completely understood, but they seem to be competing over who can bark loudest, or with the longest endurance.

Our smaller dog will run up to the fence and bounce off of it. She's a terrier mix, so she has quite a lot of nervous energy built up. I've seen her jump nearly as high as the fence. My wife and I have tried to train them against this attitude. We have tried scolding them, making them stop as they are running to the fence, just about everything we can. But the dogs refuse to learn this lesson. They don't understand why we would want them to lose the barking Olympics. Had I no patriotism?

So, one day, we were visiting some friends for a few hours, and when we got back, one dog ran up to greet us. I thought that was a little odd, but I had to go to the bathroom, so I didn't give it much attention (I don't have a problem going to the bathroom at other people's houses, I just avoid it if I can. Call it an eccentricity).

So, my wife follows our dog outside to see where the other one went. I was about halfway to the bathroom when my wife called for me.

Now, there is a tone of voice that all people have, and rarely use. It's powerful, because you only use that tone of voice in the most dire circumstances. It doesn't matter what you say, because the message is always the same. "Drop whatever you're doing. Get over here now! Something terrible has happened!" In this tone of voice, you could say, "Oh my God!" or "Fluffy Bunnies!" and the message would be the same. People around you would suddenly look. They would forget what they were doing, ignore racial or socio-economic caste system, and come to your aid immediately. Sort of the 9/11 "We are all Americans" effect. It was with this tone of voice that my wife called out "Brandon!"

I should point out that nobody uses my real name, except my parents. Since high school, everyone has called me Brand. So that was another red flag. Not that I needed one. I was on my way as soon as I heard the tone. As I rounded the door to the yard, I saw my dog hanging from the top of the fence by one paw, with my wife holding her up. Picture this dog:

Before

Hanging from a six-foot high fence by one paw. She had apparently got the paw stuck in between two planks at the top of the six-foot privacy fence. There was a large blood stain on the fence at about the level of her leg. Later, we found out that she broke a nail scratching at the fence with one of her back legs, and that's what was bleeding.

At the time, I didn't research it. I ran over to my wife, and pulled the two planks apart, freeing that paw. We laid her down on the ground, and started checking her over for injuries. There were no broken bones, no serious abrasions except for that one paw. And she was in shock. She lay there, breathing shallowly, quickly, unable to close her mouth, with her tongue hanging out and resting fully on the ground. I told my wife to get some water, as I checked out her paw. The paw had swelled to about double it's original size, so that the thumb looked like little more than a nail sticking out of a balloon. The underside of the pad was seriously abraded, and the top had a long pressure line to match.

She couldn't move, she was exhausted from the exposure, dehydration, and probably a lot of struggling against the fence. My wife brought a bowl of water and a washcloth, and we brushed mosquitoes off of her as we poured water into her mouth. She was still breathing shallowly, quickly, nonstop. My wife would hold the washcloth over her snout, and squeeze out water, while she would lick it up as fast as she could get it. We went through two bowls before we brought her inside.

She still couldn't move. She would occasionally try lifting her head, as though she was going to stand up and walk around, then drop her head back down. We stayed with her, giving her water slowly, until she didn't seem to want it anymore. We used alcohol on her paw, and ice to keep her swelling down. It was several hours before she felt well enough to walk around, and of course, she still favors the paw.

The good news is that she's fine now. She still favors the paw a little, but it's getting better every day. We still ice it down, even though the swelling is much better. We still clean and bandage the paw to help it heal, and she is pulling the bandages off when we aren't watching her. She's doing well enough now that she's started running after the doorbell, and playing with the other dog.

After

She doesn't seem to go near the fence though, and we're glad of that. My wife and I are trying to come up with a way to keep this from ever happening again. We are thinking about attaching a trellis to the top of the fence, and growing vines around it. That might make the fence tall enough that she won't try to jump that high, and block any chances that she could get caught on it.

What about you guys? Any suggestions on how to stop dogs from jumping on the fence? Invisible fencing? Bushes planted along the fenceline?
- posted by BrandG @ 8:49 PM