When I saw the discussion here had turned to Invisible Fence, I looked back, way deep, to find something I wrote a few months ago. At that time our dog Annie was nearing her 16th birthday which we think was sometime in April. At the time Annie showed up at our back door, the vet was able to get a really good guess at her age. He said her teeth looked like she was approximately 5 months old. She showed up in September. On a full moon. I thought about naming her Moondoggie but decided Annie was a better name for her.
Annie is now past her 16th birthday by a few months. We took her to the vet the other day for a checkup and he gave her a good look-over and listen-to and then he just shook his head and smiled. Even though her mobility issues are getting a little worse and she is completely deaf and has been for a couple of years, her heart and lungs and attitude have not changed. She is a beautiful dog, if I do say so myself. When people ask me what kind of dog she is, I always say, "Annie is Nature's Finest Genetic Engineering."
Anyway, I am going to do a repeat story here. (I have been telling you stories for a long, long time and every now and then, I have to do a repeat so just close your eyes if you have already read this one.) But for those who have not and who are considering Invisible Fence, here is Annie's story.
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Annie and the Invisible Fence
About that Invisible Fence....I think our Invisible Fence probably saved Annie's life -- or lifestyle, for sure. (As I write this, Annie is here beside me, sleeping at my feet, and probably dreaming about what she would like to have for her 16th birthday, coming sometime in April -- we think.)
Annie showed up at our back door one day in early September of 1994. We tried to find her owner. We put the "Found Dog" notices in mailboxes and on phone poles and in the newspaper.
And then, after a few days of all that trying to do the right thing, we got worried that somebody might claim her. She was our dog. We knew.
She came to us housebroken, calm, sweet, loved kids, and knew what a refrigerator was. Annie was somebody else's dog first. But she had run away from them. How? Why? We never found out for sure. But we soon developed a theory.
(There is a line in the play
Sylvia where the dog says to the man who finds her when she is lost, "There are some things about me that you will just never know." -- and that is what Annie said to us.)
We named her Annie because she was an orphan when she arrived.
As we got to know Annie better, she soon revealed her secret vice. Even though she never got bigger than about 35 pounds, she has always had big ideas. Annie chased deer. Herds of deer. Bucks and does and fawns. Whatever. She chased them.
And at that time, we lived on a few acres with a woods in the back. Annie knew the deer's schedule and she waited and watched and ran after them. Mr. Boomer would chase after her. She was fast. (We were all a lot younger then.)
One day, Mr. Boomer, in pursuit, was in a clearing just to the north of our woods, when out of those trees came a thundering herd of whitetail deer. Nine of them. The herd split, 4 on one side, 5 on the other, ran right around Mr. Boomer. Geez! And following behind, in hot pursuit, was Annie. Running like a deer herself. She could not catch any of those deer, though she was barking threats of what she would do to them if she did.
Finally, Mr. Boomer caught her when she quite simply ran out of steam -- for that chase anyway.
That was when we decided to spend the money to fence an acre with Invisible Fence.
Had Annie lost her first home because of her vice of chasing deer -- for who knows how many miles? Well, she won't tell us for sure. But we do know that we would have lost her eventually. And that she might have ended up dead or with somebody who would not take good care of her.
And so Annie spent a lot of years, watching for those deer. If she was in the yard, she would chase after them by running just inside the perimeter. From her safe position, she could shout her threats to those deer at a distance. Annie has always been a lady but where those deer were concerned, I heard her say things like, "If I did not have this
collar with this
battery around my neck, I would come after you and I would kick your
asses, every last one!"
Several years ago, Annie and Mr. Boomer and I downsized to our geezer ranch-style house with the small yard. We put in Invisible Fence again.
Now, Annie is old, really old. She sniffs the trail where maybe a whitetail has passed through in the night But she does not run anymore. Not much anyway. But she still wears that collar with the battery pack. She wears it proudly. And I think I hear her, every once in a while, out there in the yard, shouting, "If I did not have to wear this
collar with the battery, I would chase you
deer and I would so kick your
asses!"
(That Invisible Fence gave us all these years with Annie. I just know it.)
Boomer