Why Good Fences Make Good Neighbors - Keeping Out Unwanted Animals

Our neighbor's Mastiff attacked our Golden Retriever a couple of years ago. There we were, just walking along our country road, enjoying the coolest Saturday we'd had in months, Max and Sadie on their leashes, tails gleefully wagging, my husband with his iPod groovin' to a song I'm sure I'm glad only he hears and me just waiting for something to come along and ruin the moment and here it is: A hundred fifty pound mass of muscle and bone heading straight for the four of us! The next thing I know, Rocky's mouth is clamped down on Sadie's middle, his many sharp teeth drilling holes into her furry back and she's yelping in agony.

I was on the other end of Sadie's leash, not that it would've mattered if it were Joe. Rocky was single-minded in his aim: I'm gonna git you. Something he undoubtedly learned from his owner. Now I don't want to imply that his owner taught Rocky anything, because that would require time and energy on his part, not to mention a certain level of interest in the dog. No, Jethro has dogs on his property to guard it. Period.

There ought to be a law against keeping dogs for the sole purpose of protection. Whenever you hear about a good dog gone bad, odds are that it wasn't the dog's fault. It's true you reap what you sow and when you treat an animal like a junkyard dog, it has the potential for making you famous, or should I say infamous.

The same neighbor had to put down his Pit Bull after she developed a taste for goat's blood. Yes, he also owned three goats, used to be four, but as I said, the Pit Bull...

Evidently he's never heard of spaying or neutering either, but then from the little bit I've told you about him, this shouldn't come as a surprise.

So how did this happen? Allow me to paint a picture for you. The still unfinished straw bale house that sits on the five-acre tract adjacent to ours looks a lot like a small prison, especially when you take into account the ten-foot ranch fencing that surrounds it.