Invisible Fence

I was watching my across-the-street neighbors this morning. The Invisible Fence guy was over there, setting out flags around the perimeter of the compound.

Before they moved in 2 or so years ago, our neighbors had the invisible fence installed for their elderly weimaraner. (That's a dog for those of you that -- don't know.)* Either the dog would never train into it, or they didn't use it much, because that dog was all over the place. Sweet dog, though. She has since gone where all dogs go (to heaven, again for those of you who a little slower on the uptake); they have added a child to the one they already had; and, they have recently purchased a brand NEW weimaraner puppy. Sweet dog. Hence the Invisible Fence guy again. It will be interesting to see if it works with this one.

Back to my Gladys Cravitz imitation (Bewitched. I'm getting really tired of 'splaining myself to you X'ers): I was watching the neighbors. Grandmama was on the front porch with the baby (person) watching the Fence guy, and Momma was in the yard, um, helping the Fence guy. It occured to me then that a kid friendly version of invisible fencing would be a terrific revolution in child care. A Force Field Playpen. PlayForce. People can walk by, and make faces at the children behind the force field and laugh at the kiddies playing, but the kids can't come out and bite people on the butts. Or pull neighbors' tree limbs off the trees (from what else would they pull them?) which is a particularly evil problem in MY neighborhood.

Just made me think of the possibilities.

I would love to see that hood squirrel stomp by and smack the dog one in the face, and stomp off.

And the poor dog could do nothing but go crazy.

*The reason I say this is that when my Momma was in the hospital a couple of weeks ago, there was a woman going room to room with a weimaraner therapy dog named Grace. I saw them in the hall while I was giving my husband an update via my cell phone. I started petting the dog, which is something I cannot ever keep myself from doing, and told my hubby I was petting a weimaraner. The owner was so thrilled I knew what kind of dog it was, she practically hugged me and almost adopted me into her family. From that, I gather that not many people, at least people who inhabit hospitals needing therapy dogs, would even know what a weimaraner is if one bit them on the proverbial hand.

Writing of weimaraners, this is great:

Our first long-hair dachshund, Fritz (Margrave Ritzy Bits-O'Fritz) liked to take off after rabbits. We lived on about an acre in an outlying section of Brewton, Alabama at the time. There was a weimaraner in the house across the woods from us penned in with an electric fence. Fritz took off one day, chased a rabbit through the woods and straight into the electric fence.

That was the weimaraner's luckiest day on earth. Dachshunds get grumpy when they don't catch rabbits and Fritz probably would have taken it out on that poor HUGE dog. But the fence took care of THAT. All we heard was a YELP and then about 30 seconds later, heard Fritz crashing through the brush and saw him limp into the yard.

It was great.