Can You Please Help Me? I'm Stuck Again

After you have a dog for a short while you come to recognize certain barks. For example: there is the "I want in now" bark, the "This is my driveway, so keep on walking" bark, and the "Someone is at the door" bark. These are just a few basics that I've come to recognize with Skippy. But it wasn't long after we got her that I noticed a new one that would quickly become a major part of her repertoire: the "I'm stuck, can you please help me" bark.

When my wife and I first got married we lived with her parents and they had a large, mature maple tree in the middle of their backyard, which we tied the dog to. The rope extended from the tree to the side door and gave her enough freedom to explore most of the yard unhindered. One day, there was a bark coming from the yard that we had not heard before. It was a staccato bark, higher pitched than normal, with longer pauses in between. She also sounded farther away then the door. As the large kitchen window overlooks the yard, we first went there to see what the matter was, as the bark had a hint of desperation to it. There was our nearly new Jack Russell completely wrapped around that maple tree.

Sure, this was a funny sight, but we thought she would just retrace her steps and walk clockwise around the tree to free herself. We quickly realized that she was not barking so that we could spectate, but that she clearly saw herself in a situation that she did not know how to escape from. Parenthood provides us with many teaching moments and since we don't have kids I thought this would be a good opportunity to teach this Jack Russell how to make a clockwise turn. So I calmly began to walk around the tree in the opposite direction, calling her name, assuming she would follow me and see the path to her freedom. I figured this would take a few times to sink in and that patience was required; after all, this was a new environment for this troubled dog and she wasn't going to learn this overnight. I was so prepared to be patient. I was smiling. This was an amusing situation, but it soon became frustrating as Skippy wouldn't follow me. She did not respond to her name. She still doesn't. I didn't even get to step one of my brilliant plan. I found out quickly that when your voice becomes frustrated, then angry, she is even more less likely to follow. Finally, I grabbed the rope and forced her to follow me, as she fought and pulled in the opposite direction. Why are you doing this! It makes no sense! With everything in her, she fought against the clockwise retracing of her steps.

It would be a conservative estimate to say that she gets stuck in this exact same fashion at least once a day, if not more. You have to pick your battles, and this was one I was not prepared to fight. As it turned out, this was a wise decision because it would have been a perpetual struggle: not of wills, but of my patience and her inability to backtrack.

We bought our own house over four years ago. It had no large tree of any kind for her to wrap herself around. But Skippy continued to baffle me as I heard her familiar plea for help one the first mornings she was there. She discovered that the tires of our Jeep were great for walking around and walking through. I could not believe this. It happened with the motorcycle too, and still not a day goes by that we do not have to rescue her from one of these self-imposed traps. It's always the same: no matter what direction she goes around the wheels.

I just shake my head in amazement at this. You are so weird, Skippy. We have an entire lawn with no obstacles at your disposal and you still insist on wrapping yourself around the wheels of our vehicles.  Jack Russells certainly spawn some unique stories, but I cannot believe that this directional incompetence is indicative of the breed. And so I still ask, "What is up with my dog?"

Look closely at the rope.

It looks so simple, yet she cannot figure out how to free herself.