How My Dog Taz Became The Houdini Of Dogs: The World’s Greatest Escape Artist

The first dog I had was Taz, a medium-sized male with short hair, similar to a dingo.
mongrel with a beautiful face and intelligent eyes. I had been married ten years,
and had an eight-year-old daughter. We bought our first house in San
Fernando Valley area of ​​Los Angeles, a 3 bedroom ranch style with a large yard.

At our opening party, as is the custom in friendly circles, someone gave
us a six-month-old puppy saved from the kennel. Taz.

Taz had no obvious bad clothes. No biting, urinating or pooping in the house. Hey
chewed up a couple of couches, that was it. However, Taz was always a little wary of
our family. My wife Cindi is outgoing, always an entertainment executive, never
very much of a pet person. A dog was just another item any decent house should have,
much like a good china buffet or a wide screen television. It’s not that she was bad
to him, they just didn’t connect. I think dog food grossed out my wife, so
He was the one who fed him. You can imagine who picked up poop.
I loved scratching Taz’s ears and he was affectionate with me. But if
such a thing was possible, Taz seemed a bit bored of my company. as if he were
really too smart and had to suffer this fool because I was human and
he had a house and fed him and walked him. I just thought it was amazing
insecure, imagining things about my dog ​​that couldn’t be true.
My 8-year-old daughter, Chloe, was in her own world of reading and
imagination. She loved Taz very much, but his promise to walk the dog every day
soon got old, as Taz pulled so hard on the leash that
they have to drop or be dragged along the ground.

So the task of feeding, walking and training Taz fell to me. i guess i did
every mistake in the book. On my daily walks with Taz I pulled on the leash. I
let him throw it in fact i would take him on one of my favorite hiking trails
close, one that was mostly uphill for the first mile, and I let Taz drag me
like a team of mush from a single dog to the top. I was lazy, Taz was exhausted, but
triumphant. He was the pack leader and I was the alpha dog. Beta
Really. I think this was the problem. I never settled down like him
leader of the pack. I was just this competing male that Taz wanted to escape.
from.

What he should have done in the first place was to train him to sit quietly and
patiently in the house while he tied the leash. If she threw, she should
I just sat and waited until it calmed down and stopped. So instead
Heading out the door, I should have walked him on a slack leash
around the house. Finally, we should have practiced sitting on the doorstep,
loose leash, until I gave the order to leave. But I was too ignorant and
busy to train him properly, I take all the blame!

Fortunately, Taz came to us already house trained, so this was never the problem.
In fact, he loved the patio very much, exploring every corner. I was relieved by
first, proud that she had a garden big enough for him to explore and stretch
his legacy. In fact, everything was going smoothly until one day I saw Taz
through the living room window running down the street. A whole year
prison breaks had begun.

I would usually jump in my car and chase him. Taz would spot me and skillfully
cut through traffic and adjacent neighborhoods. I would usually lose
him around a corner. However, a few hours later, he would inevitably get a
phone call. Fortunately, we had always had a name tag with our phone number on it.
His neck. Each person would describe a scratch on the door, and Taz would say
invite yourself and feel at home.

I set about sealing off all possible escape routes from my garden. then i had taz
castrated, which someone said was the possible reason for his wanderlust.
female scent. Despite all this, Taz would escape again and again, and
in a matter of hours he would receive the usual phone call. Everyone loved Taz
and I met a lot of people within a mile radius of my house.
Taz seemed to gravitate toward one neighbor in particular who lived in the late
a dead end next to the highway. The middle-aged husband and wife had three other
dogs. The husband was a sullen, unshaven guy with a big belly that
he wore white t-shirts that didn’t fit him. The wife was kind enough, he understood him,
but I could tell that Lumpy Husband wasn’t too pleased with Taz’s frequent visits.
visits

Finally one day I looked out into the backyard and saw Taz deftly
scale a 6-foot-tall ivy-covered wall and jump the fence. I
I could not believe what I was watching. The dog was part cute. someone suggested a
electric fence but I resisted. I wasn’t running a fucking prison. I did not want
leave it tied all day. He didn’t know what to do but keep Taz in the
House.

However, soon even that strategy backfired. Taz would cunningly wait until one of us
I would open the door and run full speed, heading for freedom, like Steve
McQueen on a motorcycle escaping from the prisoner of war camp. Soon we would open the door
wide enough that we can slide it in and close it quickly as we enter
and leave home. We feel like snakes.

This seemed to work for a while until the burglar alarm went off at midnight.

We were terrified. The French doors to the backyard were open. I was about to dial
911 when I noticed Taz climbing the back fence faster than stubbornly possible.
Suddenly I realized that Taz had opened the door himself and escaped.
I installed latches on the doors and everything was fine for a few weeks until a
House guest who was a heavy smoker stayed with us. As you might guess, at two
am He went out back for a smoke — another escape opportunity for Taz.
I was woken up at 3:00 am by a phone call: the neighbors of the dead end
They were calling The friendliest wife said that Taz had scratched at her door,
he woke them up, went in, curled up in bed with them, and fell into a deep sleep. I
I could come by in the morning to pick it up
The next morning I timidly got in my car and opened the hatch. Tea
The guy in the lumpy T-shirt came out with his arms crossed and quickly started beating me loudly:
“You’re a boy! You’re a boy! You can’t control your own dog. What’s wrong?”
with you? Have you thought about what’s happening to you?”

I begged for mercy and was finally saved by the wife who took Taz out. I
he put Taz in the back and promised that it would never happen again.
It so happened that we were going camping the following weekend, and a
good friend of my wife, who was an actress and dog trainer, promised
to cure Taz of his bad habits. She moved out for a few days with her own
little black terrier, and I was soon dazzled by Taz’s place obediently
follow orders, sit, follow, stop (without fetching, the actress
I thought that was too demeaning). Taz stopped running. He was impressed. She
we promised that when we got back from our camping trip we would have a new
mug
On the way home we got a call that Taz had run away once again.
This time he was in the kennel. I walked down the long and depressing line of
cages and found Taz, looking very pleased to see me.

The actress had helped; Taz was better for a few weeks, until one day
slipped out the door when I was taking out the garbage and ran to the
dreaded dead end. This time I didn’t even bother to follow him.
Shortly thereafter I received a phone call from the dead end’s wife. look, he said
woman with all the kindness she could muster, we really love Taz. he sleeps
with us in our bed. He gets along great with our other three dogs, and our
roommate, a single woman, wants to walk with him every day. what do you say you leave
adopt it, no questions asked?

I discussed it with Cindi and Chloe, and at first their natural
possessiveness kicked in, as did mine. But I argued, maybe Taz liked it
better in the dead end. Maybe we were never the right family for Taz. Us
everyone felt very sad, but finally we all agreed.

In fact, I often saw Taz walking around with the single woman, looking content.
From time to time I saw them on that steep hiking trail (without pulling the
leash) and Taz licked me in acknowledgment. Over the years I saw
less and less, and even once on the road, Taz didn’t seem to remember me.
If this sounds like a bittersweet ending, it is. I wish I had known what
know now about dog training. But in the end, Taz was happy with that family,

And while only I take the blame, I’m also grateful to have met Taz.
and the lessons it taught me about myself.