Log in to become a member of James Lillie's Fan Club!
Yea, it had to happen eventually, the solar fence charger turned out to be just a little bit of a novelty, and he knew it. Sherman had been testing it for a while, and Monday afternoon finally made his break.
I got a call from our next door neighbor Nancy.
"Hi, I think I saw Mary's horse down at Singer's farm."
"Uh oh, thanks Nanc, I'll go grab him."
At this point, I should point out that I am not a horse person.
My wife Mary holds that distinction, and all of its trappings. (Or so I thought...) The next call was to my wife, "Mare, Nancy just called, Sherman's down at Singers farm." Stunned, she replied "You sure?", In my mind I said; "Seven feet tall 2200lbs with a white star. yea, pretty sure."
"Yea Mare, Nancy just called, you had better get home."
(I wasn't really sure that I could actually "get" him on my own, as these kinds of things often sound easier than actual activity itself.) I called my boss and told him I had a bit of an emergency and would have to leave. Phil asked if I needed any help.
"Can you wrangle a horse?" I asked?
"Uh, Good luck Jim." he replied.
Taking that as a solid 'possibly' I kept Phil in mind.
Sure enough, the escapee was walking around the Singer farm. Quickly realizing a headlock wasn't going to work,I drove past. I didn't want him spotting me and heading for the road, he was pretty safe up in the farm area.
I headed to the house to get a lead rope, halter, and horse bait.(Grain) After grabbing the gear I was off headed back down the road.
(The farm is about 3/4 of a mile away.) Unfortunately I had been spotted and "ton's o' fun" was running through the field to meet me. I stopped the truck, got out and walked to the back to grab the grain bucket.
To frame this up, one has to remember that a horse is generally not the brightest bulb on the tree of life. What started out as an adventurous search for new and exciting food sources, turned bad when he couldn't find any.
Just Snow.
"Duh, gee, there was pasture all over the place the last time I came down this road." (Yea, you big idiot, in the summer.) Just about the time I put the bucket down, a couple in a ford escape pulled up and asked if I needed any help. I told them that I was pretty much all set, but thanks any how.
After that verbal display of bravado, (I had no real idea if I was really 'ok' or not) I walked to the cab of the truck to retrieve Sherman's halter.
Meanwhile back at the bucket, Sherman was starting to get frustrated. As it turns out, the bucket was large enough for him to get his nose in, but once in, his mouth couldn't open.
After briefly contemplating how I was going to get the halter on over a plastic bucket, I decided to pour some of the grain on to the ground to get the bucket out of the way.
This worked well, and had the side benefit of keeping his head low so I was able to slip on the halter as he ate. I removed the burdocks that were on his face and he calmed down a bit.
"We hook our cows up to the bumper and drive them home." The Escape driver offered.
A quick vision of my toyota being dragged down the road backwards by an enraged horse made me re think that one. "Nah, I'll just walk him, he's better that way.", I hoped out loud, trying to appear as though I had been doing this since the early 60's.
Once he finished the grain (About twice what he would get during a normal feeding) we were off. Sherman was now as wired as a five year old on easter after a chocolate bunny. We started walking the 3/4 mile back to his barn, a few times I had to double him back (circle him around) so that he would slow down and pay attention, but he was basically ok after that.
Hearing the call of the wild, he tried to retrace his steps through the forest a few times, but I was able to bring him around. (There is nothing scarier than leading a horse that knows you don't have any idea what you are doing, so I gave my best horse leader impression, and he bought it.) When we got back, I saw the fence I decided that Sherman was going to need to be locked into the barn. I walked him into the barn and before I got the door fully closed, I made my mistake, I took the lead rope off. Knowing he was free, he utilized his full potential of 0-60 acceleration, and blew past me.
Through the stall door and out of the open gate, (I didn't close it as the fence was down.) and up to the back of the house.
We currently have two dogs. One ours, and one my Sister in-laws.
My sister and brother in-law are visiting the islands and Min-pin- Dachshunds are not allowed at most resorts.
The dogs were absolutely terrified, never having seen the horse that close to the house was clearly an unnerving experience and the slider bulged from the barking.
(The Napoleon complex was keeping them united and looking as confident as possible in the face of eminent death.) I didn't bother to run after him. Number one he can out run me, and number two he will, if he thinks he being chased.
Back to the grain bin for two more scoops,we are now up to about four times his normal grain intake for the day. I grabbed the larger rubber feeding dish and shook it from the doorway to the barn.
Nothing, he continues to stare at "Dog's under glass".
I walked up to him and shook it again, his ears looked, followed shortly by his mouth.
The offer was rescinded and I started walking back to the barn with the grain.
From the rumbling and the dogs plea to "look behind you!" I could tell that I had a visitor and tried to act nonchalant as possible.
(And secretly hoped he didn't run me over, as he was now two chocolate bunny's ahead of where he should be.) The grain, and his adventure had him really wired now, he had a crazed look on his face that could have been funny. If it was on something much, much smaller......
He followed me into the barn, I tossed the grain bucket into the far corner and as soon as he cleared the opening, I shut the lower door.
This door is never closed as we use it more as a run in than a barn, so he immediately registered his displeasure by kicking the door.
I yelled in "The next one that's going to get kicked is you!" He responded by kicking the door harder. Having my bluff called, I pushed his head back though the upper door opening and closed that too.
(Out of site, out of mind? Well, it works for parrots.) I started walking over to Nancy's house as I was now 3/4 of a mile from my truck, and Mary had not arrived yet. I could hear the windows in the barn rattling as he kicked at the door.
(No more grain for you today big guy.) Just as I stepped into the neighbors house Mary pulled up. She checked on him, (I think she gave him some grain) and we went to retrieve my truck.
When we got back I proceeded to fix the fence, before it got too cold.
Mary let out the hounds from hell and they ran off in different directions to solve the worlds problems.
I borrowed a fence charger from Nancy's husband Norm, (He has at least two of everything) and after installing it, started fixing the broken wire. Its a solid 14 gauge wire not easy to break and difficult to work with, especially in the cold.
Then it hit me, "Mare, did you put the dogs back in?"
"Uh, one of them" she replied.
She was working on cleaning Sherm's pasture and not really listening.
I tried again. "Which one?"
"Uh, I couldn't find Jessie." (Her sisters dog).
"Mare, we had better find her, its getting pretty cold." I yelled back out to her.
Jessie is a geriatric, extremely overweight, Min-pin Dachshund that isn't really designed for life in the wild, she had been out for almost an hour, and it was starting to get dark.
(Jessie is out of breath after about twenty feet, and seldom leaves the safety of the porch.) We looked in every path, as when you legs are only four inches long, you tend not to stray far from the path.
After involving the neighbors once again, we all broke off searching up and down the road, and up all of the driveways. Nothing.
Mary brought some cheer into the search, "I heard that some times dogs walk off into the forest to die on their own when they get old."
I thought for a second, "I don't think so, first of all, I think that's just cats, and second, unless there is a path, 'fatness' isn't going to make it into any 'woods'.
(I did secretly start looking for brown fur no more than four inches off from any given path.) My adrenalin rush from the horse rescue was starting to wear off and rational thought started creeping back into my head. We only had Jessie for three days so far, and I started playing the future conversation in my mind.
"Yea, Deb, you know how dogs get old sometimes and walk off to die with their own kind."
And Debbie would probably say something like "You know how, I hardly ever kill your pets.
(OOh, snap out of it.) So I went back to the scene of the crime, and started looking at the tracks, as our dog is a Yorkshire terrier and weighs practically nothing, her tracks were easily discernable. There were also less of Jessie's tracks as our terrier does most of the running around.
Down the path into the back door of the garage I opened to get tools to fix the fence.
Jessie was sleeping on a blanket on the floor.
I was greatly relieved, as the real story wasn't going to work; "Yea, we kinda left your old dog out in the snow to die." and my back up story of "A Columbian drug lord is holding her for ransom" ,probably wasn't going to work.
(I guess I probably watched the 'ATeam' too much as a kid.) Our new charger is capable of zapping you from a distance if you even look at it wrong.
The End (I hope)
This author of this Article has choosen to make this article available with free reprint rights. Click here to copy this article.
Disclaimer: All information on this site is provided for informational purposes only! By no means is any
information presented herein intended to substitute for the advice provided to you by any health care or other professional
or organization.
