Don’t Fence Me In

When I was a young pup my parents moved to a small town in Oklahoma where my dad had been recruited for a new job.   Our first apartment was a block away from the only highway through town.  I was a happy and precocious child who had great “Houdini” skills.  My parents tried to contain me in the large fenced back yard and, while no one was looking, I would escape.  I always madee my way to the gas station on the highway to entertain their customers.  While the attendants were pumping gas, I would sing a rousing rendition of “How Much is that Doggie in the Window” which was the only song I knew.  The attendants thought I was cute so they would encourage me.  After finishing my performance, I would hold out my hand for gratuities which I usually received.  When my parents found me they were relieved, angry and embarrassed by my attempts to kick start a music career.  From my understanding, I was able to get out of the yard several times before they saw my means of escape.  I would quickly scurry over the top of the six foot fence.  From that point on, I didn’t go into the yard without wearing a handsome leather harness with a rope connecting the harness to the clothes line.  The rope was short enough that I couldn’t reach the fence but long enough so that I could run back and forth like a dog and wear a path in the grass.  Good times!!