There she goes again. Gidget, my wilderness obsessed pup, can be seen out of the corner of my eye in our Arkansas backyard lumbering past… and she has somehow grown 3 times her normal length. My raised eyebrow when our eyes lock doesn’t deter her.  With a look of accomplishment, she continues to drag the 6-foot-long fence post across the yard. Looking as though she has no care in the world about the muddy line she is marking while ripping up the grass.

        Life has felt like pins and needles since Gidget was found at 3 months old in a forest.  She’s learning how to be obedient which means she’s at that stage of testing the barriers for how much she can get away with.

        My checklist structures itself in the well-organized part of my mind; it has made quite a routine of itself since Gidget was adopted.  Is my little, half blind, half deaf Pomchi, Pepito anywhere near Gidget’s line of fire? Where is our angsty Cat? Will Gidget accidentally tread on him while dragging the fence backwards, causing another row?  Thankfully, my third dog Brodie is 20 pounds larger than Gidget and Hazel is only a few months older than her, so he’s the quicker feline on the uptake to dart out of harm.

        Pepito is buzzing around, but aware of the danger.  Cat lazily stretches his whole body to lie on the porch and watch.  Crises averted with minimal effort. I’ll count that as a win.  This is a better situation than the 8-foot fallen tree limb of last month.  Do I actually get to have a sigh of relief and laugh at this? A weekend foster turned into adoption of a wilderness puppy into a home not only in city limits, but across the lumber-mill-semi-truck highway from an apartment complex which houses 300 dog-friendly people hasn’t come with ease.  After 9 months of training her not to go to the highway, training her not to insist on disregarding the “no highway” rule and jetting to see the residents at the apartments; a fence post ripping up the yard… possibly whackingme if she goes into a trot… that seems like a cakewalk.