Fencing with Deb

Deb has been asking me to have a fence installed in our back yard for 11 years, and for 11 years I avoided it, as I found the whole idea offensive (Speaking of offensive, how about that pun?) I use orate to Deb about our migration from the cold hard city to enjoy the open rolling spaces and the natural God given gifts that the Granite State offers. "Shouldn't our dogs be like the people of our state who proclaim to Live Free or Die? Why would we want to deny our children the Walden like wilderness, unencumbered by the urban trappings from which we came? What about the freedom that our forefathers fought so hard to secure? Remember the Donner Party!" "You're an idiot," she would say. "We live in Downtown Dover and our house is surrounded by a neighborhood that are as close to the other houses when we were in Somerville or Winthrop.

After months and months of debate, tap dancing and utilizing all of my skills or persuasion, I finally convinced Deb, and we bought a fence. You see Deb's desire has been to protect our two dogs from the neighborhood traffic. Not that we have a lot of it, but like all of you New Englanders who need to reeducate yourselves on how to drive in the snow, our dogs have to reacclimate themselves to the dangers of the street each spring. There's always a few close calls and Deb loses her...well, let's say she becomes, animated. The reality is our older dog Bean hasn't been on a leash in our neighborhood since we arrived some eleven years ago. She's had a few brushes with the K9 Grim Reaper, but the fact of the matter is that she's more proficient at crossing the street than most of the goofy kids on our street. Deb has always had this dream of letting the dogs out to the backyard where they could roam free and she'd be free from the anxiety of them wandering off.

Last week I was looking out our kitchen window and saw Bean attempting to escape by gnawing on one of the wooden pickets. I just smiled and continued looking out at our dog's new $3,000 chew toy. Also, during the same week, I was working in the yard and our Chihuahua escaped through the gate a neighbor neglected to close. When realizing that George was missing, Deb, let's say again became animated and blamed me for being an accomplice in the escape. Zach hasn't quite learned how to mow in and around the fence and can't seem to do the edging.

As I contemplate spending the summer weather proofing the fence, I sit back and smile. It's a beautiful little picket fence and it really seems to be working out well. Not sure why I avoided it all these years.