Walking along one of the main roads in the Edgemoor neighborhood, past a particularly plush row of homes, Jessie (my charge at the time – an aging Chow/Spaniel/Retriever mix) and I came upon a small female black lab, shivering in the cold rain and cowering on the ground between a low stone garden wall and the road. The address on her tag was that of the gorgeous, million dollar home that rose up behind her. The young lab was wearing an Invisible Fence shock collar. Guessing that she had crossed the Invisible Fence line, and couldn’t get back into her yard without being hurt, I took a chance and removed the collar. The young lab bounded with joy as Jessie and I led her back into her yard. While I took stock and looked for a safe place to possibly put the lab, Jessie investigated the smells of the front garden, and the young lab ran for her ball and began to beg us to play with her by employing extravagant verbal and physical measures. While the young lab pestered a very patient Jessie, I walked around the right side of the house. The wide side yard led to a park-like backyard with perhaps ¼ to ½ of an acre of lush green grass for the lab to run on, and a panoramic view of the water and islands beyond that afforded her all the smells that the ocean breezes sent her way.
As fantastic as the property was, and as lucky as the young lab was to have such a fantastic yard as her personal playground, an episode of “It’s Me of the Dog” immediately came to mind – “The Monstrous Mutts,” episode 8 from season one: “A TV presenter’s home is being destroyed by her dog and she is forced into buying two sets of furniture in order to hide the destruction from her friends.”
http://www.amazon.com/The-Monstrous-Mutts/dp/B0036D8LHC
While the initial focus of the show was on what was happening inside of the gorgeous house, Victoria Stillwell stepped back and took a wider look at the situation. The dogs were bored, and that’s why they destroyed the furnishings. One of Stillwell’s first suggestions was to provide more exercise for the dogs. However, the couple — feeling that their huge, beautiful back yard should have been enough to keep the dogs satisfied in terms of play and exercise – hardly ever walked the dogs or took them anywhere to run and play. I remember Stillwell standing in the fenced yard, looking around and saying something to the effect of “this is lovely, but even I would get bored if this was the only place I got to go.”
It seemed that the young black lab that Jessie and I encountered was bored out-of-her-skull. Her humans could have had the best of intentions leaving her in the yard alone, and I had no idea how long the dog had been alone. I also recognized that she was a young lab, and those of us who have worked with young labs know that they can have tons of excess energy. For all I knew, the dog could have been walked or hiked for several hours earlier in the day. However, from the look of things, I would have bet that she had been there alone all day long. The poor thing was batty with boredom! She needed more exercise and socialization.
After leaving a note for the people of the house, I walked Jessie home, feeling good about helping a young soul in need. Then, as I drove back by the lab’s house to make sure all was well, to my surprise I found her laying in the same spot that we had found her in – between the low stone garden wall and the street. My first thought? “Maybe I was wrong. Maybe the Invisible Fence did extend that far out.” A millisecond later, I noticed that the lab was different though. She was deliriously happy, and thrashing a red thing about in her mouth, surrounded by bits of paper, some of which were still floating down to the wet ground as the lab violently shook her head. My second thought? “Hey… I have a red leather wallet.” I checked my bag, then quickly turned the car around and parked by the side of the road. Feeling more than a little hoodwinked, I slowly walked up to the little scoundrel. She greeted me with a big smile and a thumping tail, apparently thrilled to have company again. She gently released the spittle spotted wallet into my hands, and then danced around me as I collected receipts, credit cards and torn dollar bills from the wet grass.
As I walked back to the car, the old saying “no good deed goes unpunished” swirled in my head. Yet, the predominant feeling I had was sadness for the little gal’s predicament. She craved attention. Perhaps Jessie and I were the only suckers to fall prey to her guise that day and spend a few moments with her. Maybe my wallet was the only “toy,” other than her ball, that she got to play with all day.
Was I wrong to have “helped?” even though it turned out that the dog really didn’t need the assistance I originally thought she needed? No, I don’t think so. I could be criticized for walking onto private property. I could also be criticized for momentarily removing the shock collar in the first place – after all, the lab could have bolted. However, I don’t think anyone would take offense at the fact that Jessie and I provided the dog with a little attention, as short lived as it was. Victoria Stillwell was right. A dog could have the biggest, loveliest yard to live in , but sooner or later, that yard – no matter how wonderful – is going to get awfully boring, especially if the dog (a pack animal by nature) is left all alone.