dog run

Greyhounds, it is said, cannot back up. I have evidence to the contrary, not that it is particularly helpful in this situation. Ginger, in her heretofore under-appreciated canine curiosity, has followed her nose to the space between the shed and the fence.

No, not that shed, I mean the other one that most people don’t know about because it’s in the dog run on the side of the house by the A/C. Ginger getting stuck in the dog run is rather ironic, especially because since moving to this house we’ve used the gate of the dog run to keep dogs out of there. It’s too unseen from where the people are, and who wants to keep their dog locked up out of sight anyway.

The space between the shed and the fence is just wide enough for Ginger to fit, it’s actually pretty comfortably wide back there. But not at all wide enough to turn around in. That’s not really the problem because not only do I have observational evidence that this particular greyhound can reverse, but I also witnessed it. Once. And then she wouldn’t do it anymore. Maybe my being there reminded her that she doesn’t know how to do that. Anyway, backing up is not enough to get out of this jam because the next level skill that is required is backing up around corners. You see, the space Ginger is in is behind the shed, and in order to get there you have to go down the narrower space between the house and the shed and then turn. The third side, between the shed and the fence, is impossibly narrow, only a couple of inches. Can’t go that way. It’s a little cul-de-sac back there.

I myself just barely fit through between the house and the shed, and transiting the corner didn’t prove to be any more informative than just looking. I retreated back to the space between the shed and the house and interrogated the various aspects with my eyes while also making calming voice noises for Ginger, reassurances that it is unlikely that she would be stuck there for much longer. Surely we would get her out before her parents returned the next day. And to give her a couple of treats, enticement to back up which worked the first time but not the second. The first choice would be to reverse around the corner. I did once get her close to it but some stick or leaves or something was not to Ginger’s preference and so she moved away, her forward direction. And that’s the end of willing backing up from her.

There was only one solution: we would disassemble the fence. Of course finding the right tools would prove to be a minor struggle; nothing is really put away all that organizedly in the garage. Sure they’re all in approximately one place, I think, but the ensemble of tools could do with some de-entropic reprocessing. Anyway, we got Ginger out, no harm done, a little life by misadventure after a week of just trying to survive my cold. Dogs.

jg

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