Don’t Fence Me In
We bought our house a little over four years ago from a couple with two little kids, about eight and five. We noticed the five-foot chain link fence around the yard, and the padlocks they left for them and thought, huh.
Drake was just over a year old, and I wondered if I’d eventually need to lock him into the yard. Sure enough, last summer he made several breaks for freedom, a few times enticing little brother Guppy down the block. We brought out the padlocks. They screamed. They wailed. But they stayed in the yard.
During a recent thaw, Drake and friends were playing outside, then Drake entered the house from the front door, not the back, and barefoot.
“Weren’t you in the back?” I asked.
He shrugged. “I took off my boots, threw them over the fence, then climbed over.”
I looked out and saw his boots on the ground in front of the fence. So much for security and padlocks. I think he’s picked up a few things at circus school. I can only hope Guppy, who is a solid citizen with a low center of gravity, will remain earthbound a little while longer, and not follow his brother over the fence.