I first saw this little illustration of poor planning in my second-grade classroom. It was Lincoln Elementary School in Norman, Oklahoma, 1958.
Ahhh, the lovely Miss Jones. I was an eight-year-old in love. There was something about her red Corvette.
But, I digress.
When I built this fence in the back yard of our home I did plan ahead. I was careful to measure the slightest of our dogs,
Pearl,who was age four at the time. She was about four inches at the widest point of her chest, so that made it easy to make the spaces between boards the same width as the boards themselves, a nominal 3½ inches. Brother Peyton, being much larger and stockier, would never fit through a space Pearl couldn’t negotiate.
Up went the fence and in the next thirteen years we never suffered an escape. Even deep into “Peytonland,”
where Peyton loved to explore, no dog ever got out of the yard.
Who would have thought that someday we would own a puppy whose father was but three pounds and whose mother was only six? We always thought our little Pearl to be delicate, but she was nine pounds most of her adult life. Peyton was a compact and powerful thirteen pounds.Willie contemplates his move to escape through the fence.
It took Willie 7/16ths of a nanosecond to walk straight through the openings in the gate. Beyond that is the boat ramp and a world of water hazards.
Right now, Willie hasn’t made it beyond 3.3 pounds, but we don’t want to make any permanent changes until he is grown. I have sacrificed some cheap clamps from my woodworking shop to hold pieces of PVC lattice in place.
It’s tacky, but temporary.
If he doesn’t grow to the point that he can no longer fit through the existing spaces, I’ve considered some thin strips of 1x 4 inserted between fence boards.
I’ll keep you apprised of his growth.
See you tomorrow, Dr. Randolph.