The Very Bad Dog

At some point the dog, a Jack Russell Terrier figured out that he was smarter than the Bloke and I.

It started when he realised he could predict human behaviour - you just had to pay attention. Showering meant he was going to be put in his kennel and we were going to leave him. As does applying lipstick and perfume. Therefore, these actions equal dog running off to a neighbouring property for continuing freedom and fun. He just slinks off before you even notice, evaporates. Car keys could mean a ride in the car and to ensure it did not become going in the kennel, his plan was to run out of the drive immediately and down the road.

Sometimes he would pause at the doorway while considering his options then just bolt, hell for leather. He discovered it is most fun when the dog runs in front of the car and the humans follow. This guarantees a ride even if it is short and the grumpy humans then put you in the kennel.

If the humans move the wheelie bin it is an opportunity to accompany them onto the road where you can pee on every letter box in view and play with cars and other humans. If the humans take the grass cutting machine up the driveway ditto – run onto road, narrowly avoid cars while peeing on every letter box. He even started the same nonsense when the neighbours tried to go for a walk - he joined in too but never within arm’s reach.

Fearing for his safety they would be forced to turn around and go home. We had to leave a jar of dog treats and a lead tied to the front gate. He was out of control. The final straw came when I went for a horse ride one day. I have never taken the dog with me and for 10 years he has waited patiently in the driveway for me to return.

I rode off down the street and about a kilometre from home the dog ran straight past me in the middle of the road. He didn’t even look at me - just continued ahead only stopping when he was a nice safe distance away.

He would not come to me or sit and wait if I approached – he was in charge and there was nothing I could do about it! If I rode faster, then he just ran faster, staying with me but well ahead. A car appeared and swerved to miss him.

Now I was worried that he would be killed before my eyes. I decided to just get cracking and get off the busy road as soon as possible.

We turn onto a quiet gravel road with large grassy verges and I relax a little – until we came to a cottage and he saw the cat! Now the dog has chased the cat under the house. I am having a nervous breakdown and worried the homeowner will emerge

and shoot the dog who is running around and under the house while barking furiously.

I find a piece of hay bale twine and tie my 600-kilo horse to the flimsy looking cottage fence – thinking this could go horribly wrong - but there is no time to waste. I am soon running around the cottage in full riding attire, including helmet, shouting all manner of things that cannot be printed. Then the homeowner arrives and attempts to pull into her driveway, but instead finds an enormous horse bum blocking her path. Worse, in her garden is a foul mouthed and red-faced mad woman.

Luckily the lady is lovely. She pats the horse and helps me capture the dog who is transferred onto the hay bale string and dragged home in disgrace.

I was seething! “Right – I’ve had it. I will not be outsmarted by that bloody dog,” I raged to the bloke. Now he and the dog are both scared, and I am busy on the internet finding the solution. The courier delivered the box within days and it took me another couple to install the invisible dog fence system.

Now the dog wears a clever collar that keeps him on our property and out of trouble. I was so pleased with myself, smug in fact. Problem solved… no more worrying about that dog. Two days later the dog was stealing the horse’s breakfast but she didn’t want to share with a stinky carnivore. She pulled unhappy faces, snorted and then stomped her feet. The dog decided to assert his authority and barked in her face. In response she jumped on him with one enormous front foot, smashing him into the dirt.

I saw the steel horseshoe across his neck and thought “Hell – he’s dead”. Then came the crying of a dog who has just learned a lesson the hard way. I carried him inside and he was sore for a day or two then back to his usual robust self. That damned terrier, thank God I am blonde – the grey hairs are far less noticeable.