Operation began two Fridays ago when pretty much I dreaded happening during a Dodger Escape occurred. Dodger got out when I was preparing his leash for our daily jaunt to the kidlets' school. Right out the front door and off into the woods.
If one flings oneself at a screen door often enough, it opens. *sigh*
He was gone from 2:30 until 11:00 p.m. During that time, he was sighted by numerous acquaintances.
"I saw your dog chasing deer across the highway headed South."
"Your dog is down below such and such's farm headed North."
"If such and such a farmer spots him doing such and such a thing...."
"Your dog is in the middles of Something Street, stopping traffic."
"Isn't that our neighbour's dog over there?"
Our tracking skills were employed and several lengthy hikes occurred as we humans strove to recapture the furry bastard. Alas, we were always too far behind to actually sight his spotted hide. Met some lovely folks, though.
Around 9, he started circling back through the subdivision. Steadfastly ignoring our pleas for him to "Come" "Have a TREAT!" "Sit!" and "Drop dead, you miserable animal."
At 11, exhausted from tromping across half the county, we had to go to bed. One last call for Dodge out the door and voila- one muddy, exhausted, wreck of a middle-aged weekend warrior dog wandered home. He was too tired to eat or drink or pee. Had to wet his parched gums with water.
Again, the last insult is the praising. We go out of our mind with glee when he returns. Mixed feelings on that.
So, we haven't really used our front door since the incident. It CANNOT happen again. If the dog was hurt or caused an accident, we would all be devastated. Not to mention, financially wiped out.
Fencing options are on the table. As are further obedience lessons.
And yet, we love the furry wretch.