Gated

Last week the boys talked me into walking to our local little ice cream spot for a sweet. We headed off through our precariously-barely-hanging-on back fence gate and through the woods on the trails that lead us to our downtown area, leaving our two pups in the backyard.

After a hot, 20-minute hike and waiting for our ice cream to arrive, I received a phone call from an unknown number. Apparently, our escape artist, Baloo, was hanging out in the woods behind a home in the neighborhood behind ours. The woman called us because of the number on his collar. Luckily, the tall, lanky teenager was able to quickly run home and find the brown beast in the woods and secure him back in the yard. I’ve lost count on how many times these pups have skedaddled into the woods since we’ve moved in.

The latest escape was motivation for Brian to fix the gate over the weekend. With a good section of the back fence threatening to fall over, and the post securing the gate rotted and broken, it was time.

All four boys got to work pulling and digging and hammering and drilling, and before too long the gate was fixed, with a new post sitting in freshly poured concrete.  

Just try and get out of this gate now Baloo and Callie! (Not really, please don't.)