Wednesday, March 30, 2016

El Chapo

Over four years ago, I had another of my many failed "fosters." Some jerk had dropped off a young Chihuahua/dachshund mix (a chiweenie, if you will) in the after-hours cage outside of the county animal control facility. 

You see, our county animal control facility (which is NOT a shelter, people!) used to allow people to drop off unwanted animals just whenever they wanted...they wouldn't even have to look another human in the eye when they did it, either.

The control facility was right outside the gate into the plant where I worked.  Usually, if there was an animal in the cage (which we referred to as the "kill cage" since the animals dropped off there were usually only kept 24-48 hours before they were put down...again, animal control facilities are not shelters, folks) I, or one of my co-workers would stop and get the animal out and then try to find a home or at least a no-kill shelter to take it to.

On day, my co-worker, Jan, had stopped and liberated this little lady:
Jan found a no-kill shelter about an hour away that could take her in about a week, if someone could foster her for that long.
Yeah...we all know where this leads.  By the time I took her home, took her to the vet for shots and spaying, she had made friends with all of the cats (believe it or not) and had wiggled her little chiweenie self into our hearts.

And for the past four years we have all lived in harmony. Libby has been an inside during the evenings when we're home, outside during the day while we're at work dog.  We have a lovely fenced back yard with access onto a glassed-in porch that has a padded bench, a dog bed, a heater during the winter and a ceiling fan during the summer.  Not bad accommodations, if you ask me.

Then, the other day...right out of the blue, I drove up to my house and saw this:

She looks quite pleased with herself, doesn't she?

Jeff and I looked around the back yard and discovered that one of the gates had a gap in it big enough for her to squeeze out of, so we put a rock in the gap.
The next day, we get home and our neighbor comes over with Libby under his arm.  He said she kept getting out and coming over to his house while he was working in the yard, so he just kept her with him until we got home.
Jeff added some cinder blocks, a 2 x 4 and some rail road spikes to our would-be chiweenie barricade.
It looks quite elegant, no?

A few days pass, and then the little turd goes on walk-about again.  I took her inside and talked to her about this new wander-lust that has suddenly struck her after over four years of contentment in the back yard.
Back outside, I saw no disturbance of Jeff's handiwork.
I did a quick perimeter search and found where she'd gone under a section of the fence that had a shallow depression under it.
Jeff drives in another railroad spike to hold the fence in place closer to the ground:

And this greeted me upon my return from work the following day:

Annnnd Jeff tries more spikes.

My guess is that she can dig faster than he can set spikes.
And I am coming to my wits' end worrying about my sweet little rescue dog that hasn't got the sense to know that the back yard is where she needs to be.  Nothing's going to run over her or tote her off.  She has food and water and toys and a great big Golden Retriever brudder to play with in the back yard.
Any suggestions out there for keeping my Alabama El Chapo from continuing to tunnel out?