Fences

I grew up in a three-dog household. My dad trained Nelly, our first dog—a purebread yellow Labrador retriever. The other two, Nikki and Penny, did not retrieve said training. They were naughty, bull-headed little savages. Penny ate every hardback book in our house. (Last week, I found several relics from this time period—coffee table books shredded within an inch of their lives and held together with duct tape—while helping Mom and Dad pack for their move to Virginia.)

Multiple times throughout my childhood, one or both dogs escaped from our fenced-in yard. When I was a child, a waist-high picket fence surrounded the back yard of our home in Lowcountry, South Carolina. Nikki discovered she could jump over the fence. If we didn’t supervise her outside time, we’d find the back yard empty when we went to bring her in. One time, Mom rounded the corner of the house just in time to find Nikki hopping the fence and catching her collar on one of the pickets. Had my mom not been there to save her, Nikki would have hung herself.

Penny, with her super-sensitive Beagle sniffer, found her way out of my grandparent’s backyard, which had been fenced in with a trusty chain-link barrier since the dawn of time. She and Nikki went for a little joyride through the neighborhood. 

I ran barefoot down the quiet street lined with mid-century ranches, yelling their names, dog leash in hand. I’d pause for a moment and listen for the tinkling of their collars. After ten minutes of trespassing in every yard on Pinehurst Avenue, I found Penny and clipped the leash to her collar. But there was still no sign of Nikki. 

It wasn’t until later that I found out she’d made her way to Main Street and gotten clipped by a pickup truck. Miraculously, she was fine. 

She picked herself up off the pavement and scampered over to my brother who, in tears, carried her back to my grandparents’ house. We monitored her like hawks for the remainder of the evening, checking her breathing every few minutes and assessing her walk to make sure she wasn’t limping. We ended up taking her to the vet to get checked out, but they didn’t find anything wrong with her.

Nikki went on to live another decade or so, passing peacefully at the ripe old age of fourteen.

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I’ve been thinking about fences a lot this week. We’re trying to figure out what kind of fence to put up in my parents' new yard to contain their dogs because, like the canines that came before them, they can’t be trusted off leash.

Why do dogs bolt when they aren’t kept within a boundary?

What lies outside of a dog’s usual boundaries is exciting and new. There are sights, sounds, and smells to be explored. Even if a dog is well trained within its usual environment, new sensations are too tempting to ignore, and the call of their owner or the promise of a delicious treat isn’t enough to steal their attention back.

But humans know something dogs don’t—the outside world is dangerous. While there are lots of exciting things to discover, there are also threats: cars and motor vehicles, predatory animals, food that could cause harm, fleas and ticks, and a variety of other things that could result in sickness, injury, or death. Dogs don’t understand this. They happily eat things like animal feces, unaware that their dietary choices may cause an illness like parvovirus. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had to take Bear to Tractor Supply for a bath because he somersaulted through a pile of cow manure during a walk. 

In the same way, God creates boundaries for humankind. It’s hard to imagine there are things we don’t understand because in this life, we’re at the top of the food chain. God created humans to have dominion over all other living creatures (Genesis 1:26). We forget God has dominion over us. 

We forget God has dominion over us. 

Some sins are more obvious than others, and we understand it’s foolish, hurtful, or dangerous to do certain things. Surely, we’re smarter than dogs that run into traffic. But are we really?

When God created Adam and put him in the Garden of Eden, He gave him one commandment—don’t eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. If he did, he’d die. This was a clear boundary God created for Adam and Eve, and it was a simple one. They had an entire world to explore in communion with God—they literally went for evening walks with Him.

Like a dog bolting from its fence, Adam and Eve chose to explore what the tree of the knowledge of good and evil had to offer as soon as they were tempted by Satan. It didn’t matter that God had created an entire world for them with an endless supply of sights, sounds, tastes, and smells. They wanted the new stimuli, so they ignored the words of their master and ate the forbidden fruit. And boy, did it make them sick.

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I live in the country, and since we moved from our suburban apartment to Babbicello, we’ve had an issue with roaming dogs.

There are no leash laws where we live, so people can let their dogs out without a leash, tether, or fence. Most of the time, this means the dogs roam the neighborhood unsupervised until they get hungry and return home. The amount of posts I see on Facebook of people finding dogs on their property or dead in the road is staggering. 

I’ve had several encounters with roaming dogs. Bear is very aware of his boundaries—his yard—and he gets really upset when unknown dogs cross into his territory. He’s chased several dogs off our property, including one that sneaked into our car port while I was outside and got a little too close for comfort.

Most responsible pet owners would agree that letting your dog outside unsupervised with no boundary is irresponsible. I cannot fathom putting Bear outside in the morning and letting him roam to his heart’s content. He could get hurt or sick. He could kill someone’s cat or chickens. I love my dog, and I don’t want him to get into trouble.

This is my pet I’m talking about. How much more does God care for us?

We aren’t pets. God created us to be His image bearers, meaning we not only display His glory but we glorify Him (Genesis 1:27). We are little pieces of God, reflecting His goodness in the world. In the New Testament, those who believe in Christ are called children of God (John 1:12). Parents create safe spaces and boundaries for their children to protect them and ensure they grow up to be healthy, well-adjusted adults. Parenting involves wisdom and firmness, even when it seems unfair or unkind. Why then do we view the boundaries God has placed on us as burdensome rather than loving?

Why then do we view the boundaries God has placed on us as burdensome rather than loving?

Living this life to the fullest requires humility. We must humble ourselves at the feet of God and recognize that we are His children. His wisdom and knowledge transcends ours, and we must have faith that God has our best interest at heart (Jeremiah 29:11, Romans 8:28). This isn’t easy to do.

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When my husband and I started thinking about getting a dog, we knew we wanted to invest in training. Not because we wanted to control our dog but because we never wanted to chase it through the neighborhood or find it in a bloody heap on the side of the road.

We use an e-collar with Bear as well as a healthy dose of positive reinforcement. Some people don’t like using e-collars because they believe they’re harmful or cruel, yet it has given Bear more freedom than any other dog I’ve had. He and I are able to take off-leash walks together every day, and I never have to worry about him running away. He’s able to explore safely within a boundary. Because I control the stimulus provided by the collar, this boundary varies. I know if there’s a potential threat during our daily walks, such as a car passing us on the road, and can give him a gentle command to lay down until the danger passes. 

Other times, the stimulus isn’t so gentle. I’ve had to shock him with his collar, which always elicits a pitiful yelp that tugs at my heartstrings, to prevent him from greater pain.

Thankfully, I’ve never had to conduct a search and rescue mission to find Bear. My brother-in-law and his wife have one of Bear’s littermates, and the dogs like to play together and cause trouble. My in-laws have a big fenced-in back yard, but a portion of it butts up their deck and carport and leaves just enough space for two curious pups to wiggle their way through.

Once, when I was playing with my niece, she pointed out the window and said her dog’s name. 

“No, baby,” her mom reassured. “Luna is in the back yard with Bear.” 

I glanced out the window to find Luna running in circles in the front yard, high on freedom. 

I rushed to the door, hoping Bear hadn’t gotten out of the fence too. But when I drew open the porch door, I found him sitting on the deck waiting for me with a big grin on his face. He barrelled into me when I stepped onto the porch, eager to see me after being relegated to the back yard during dinner.

God doesn’t force us to stay within His boundaries, and He’s not afraid to run barefoot through the streets calling our names. God will leave ninety-nine other sheep in search of one that has gone missing (Matthew 18:12-14). When we are struck by something, He picks us up and carries us to safety. 

God doesn’t force us to stay within His boundaries, and He’s not afraid to run barefoot through the streets calling our names.

My prayer is that He doesn’t have to look far for me. When I wander, I hope He’ll open the door and find me waiting on the porch, ready to walk into His open arms.