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The escape artist


At 5 AM this morning, a huge commotion erupted in the back corner of our yard, where our fence meets our neighbors. Something large was attempting to scale the fence.

Scrabbling claws gouged at the fence, splintering the soft moist wood. Heavy breathing rent the morning stillness.

Then, silence.

Ruffling dirt flew next, as the thing attempted to dig under the fence. Whatever it was, it was big, and it was going to take a long time for it to make a hole big enough to fit through.

It resumed clawing at the fence. Then, with a mighty grunt and a lunge, it leapt into the air, balanced on the top of the fence, and fell heavily to the ground in our yard behind the shed.

We watched apprehensively through the window. It was too big to be a possum, or a raccoon, and it was too aggressively intent on achieving its goal of getting into our yard.

The bushes next to the shed were shoved roughly aside as a huge brown-and-black blur boiled out of the vegetation. A flash of white teeth, the thud of heavy feet, and the thing galloped at full speed across the ground, past our window, and into the heavy underbrush beyond.

It was our neighbor’s new German shepherd dog. They adopted it a few weeks ago, and they love it.  It does not love them, though, because it seems to make a habit of escaping from their fenced yard. It is not a good match for their family, I think.

A few minutes later, we heard frightened shouts of children and parents on the next street over. No doubt they encountered the escape artist.

We’ll probably hear about it from the owners in a few days, if they ever get the dog back.

At the rate it was moving, it doesn’t want to go back.

  1. 2012-12-06T02:25:51-05:00 02:25

    I like how you wrote this. Very dramatic. Had me wondering…


    • 2012-12-06T08:23:40-05:00 08:23

      I’m glad you liked it. Sometimes I dig out the lexicon to spice up my normally-dry narrative.


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