By Susan Hawkins
Rajah, a magnificent two-year-old German shepherd foster dog, took a shine to the yellow lab that lives inside the fence of a house behind us. He sailed over our fence and had a fabulous romp with his new best friend until I showed up. When I walked up to the fence, he sat down and stared at me as if to say, "Hi! I know you. What are you doing here? I'm having fun. Please go away."
It's true. As a volunteer foster family for our local German Shepherd Dog rescue group, we occasionally get a gorgeous, affectionate GS with super powers. Our own two German shepherds have never escaped the bonds of our four-foot chain-link fence, which means one of three things: a) they don't have the ability or just haven't figured it out yet, b) they adore their happy home too much to leave or c) they'd rather just bark maniacally at the dogs that live all around us rather than actually get up-close and personal. Not so for some of our foster dogs—and the resulting adventures are pretty funny.
We have a large, fully fenced backyard that abuts our two neighbors on both sides and three neighbors behind us, all of whom have dogs. Boxers, shih tzus, yellow labs and mixed breeds abound. I'm not even counting the zillion other dogs that live in the rest of the neighborhood. You've really got to love dogs to be a happy homeowner in this ‘hood. Though we would never take any of our dogs for a walk or a ride without a leash, we do let them run free and get exercise at fenced dog parks, our own backyard and in fenced yards of family and friends who are brave enough to invite us for a play date with their dogs.
Older fosters figure out quickly if they can scale our fence. Most can't, much to our relief. Of the few that have the super power, we've actually seen them take a galloping start and soar over the fence like an Olympic high jumper. Some just grab onto the fence and scale it, mountain climber-style. They never seem able to figure out how to get back in. Why is that?
If we're lucky, the dogs wind up in one of our neighbors' yards, where they get some playtime with other dogs before I fetch them. Our neighbors are used to it by now and, being dog lovers themselves, they don't mind. Unless it's 2AM, and in my sleepy stupor, I let all the dogs out back for a loudly requested bathroom break. This is when I really wish they knew the fence-flying thing works both ways.
Still, they're in a confined area, so I can live with it (except on a bitterly cold winter's night, when it sucks to be me—and my neighbor.) The scary moments come when a foster jumps into our unprotected front yard for a tour of the neighborhood. In milliseconds, I'm in the car with the window down, screaming the dog's name at the top of my lungs, searching frantically for the little Houdini. The good news is dogs are predictable, and sooner or later, I see our super dog nose to nose with another dog, separated only by a fence. It's grab ‘n' go before any harm's done.
You may be wondering why we volunteer to foster homeless pets, given the work and sometimes harrowing moments it brings us. Honestly, we wouldn't trade this gig for anything in the world. Our reward is knowing we're giving a precious, innocent animal the chance to love and be loved and, just like our own dogs (who are both adopted rescues,) the joy they bring us is immeasurable. Oz and Zoey (our "kids") obviously enjoy the rotation of new playmates (probably because they both know the new guy will be gone soon.) Last, but not least, it isn't every day you see a dog fly.
Susan Hawkins is a writer for Max and Mittens, an online pet shop where you can shop designer clothing for dogs and clothing.
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