The Cost of Containment

Please buy me a fence. I need my alone time. Look what they do to me.
Please buy me a fence. I need my alone time. Look what these people do to me. It’s not even my birthday or anyone’s else in this house.

We can’t stop buying stuff for Munson. We’ve bought most of the toys in the store, tons of bones he can chew on, a dog bed, several collars, too many leashes, and a few different bowls. Now we’ve moved on to bigger things. A fence. I think this dog is spoiled.

 

As you know, we moved out to the country to have more space and so I could stop living behind the 75 year old man who swam in his pool naked. Well, be careful for what you wish for because you might just get a dog someday who needs a fence.

 

The Coffee King (also known as my husband) would like a real fence. Something that goes aesthetically in the yard, will keep Munson in, but won’t shock him if he gets too close. We got the first quote. I can’t even tell you how much it is because every time I think about it white noise screeches in my head. It should be a crime to charge that much for a fence. I don’t care how big my yard is. I started thinking; I don’t want a fence if it costs that much. I could remodel a bathroom for the price of a fence. And even though I love that furry, adorable, monster, he’s still a dog and I’m not buying a dog a fence when I could buy granite. Just saying.

 

There is the electric fence option. It’s less expensive, will actually cover a larger area for Munson to run in and shouldn’t he have as much space as possible to explore, exercise, and God forbid poop in? But there’s that one sticky fact. Or maybe I should say prickly fact. The shock. The poor dog has to get zapped to learn he can’t cross the boundary. Seems harsh, but I know lots of dog owners who love having their electric fence. And they spoil their dogs way more than we do.

 

Is this fence dilemma any different than say, buying a stroller for your child? You want the safest option so they don’t fall out and land on the ground for a reasonable price, but did I cheap out when I was shopping strollers? Of course, not. I’m an OCD, control freak mother. Only the best for my Noodges. I can imagine what I’ll go through to make sure they purchase the best possible car someday. Oh, wait, I forgot. I’m not letting them drive.

 

If I’m going to stick with my need to control things, then Munson shouldn’t get a fence of any kind. At least while he’s on the leash, I can control, to some degree, what he puts in his mouth and this puppy is a real life garbage disposal. If he has free reign of the yard, who knows what filth he’ll eat. So, that solves it. Giving up control isn’t worth the cost of containment.

 

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Country Living

I live in the country which means there’s a lot of space between me and my neighbors. There’s good things about space and bad things. Just like everything.

Good thing: I no longer live behind the 75 year old man who swims naked at 7 a.m. Since my house sat up higher than his I could see right over the privacy fence if I was in my kitchen. Let’s just say I had impeccable timing when it came to opening the curtains while he was getting in the pool. Now if it was Matthew McConaughey that would be a different story. I’d still be city living if you get my drift.

Bad thing: The bus drops the kids off far away. My son: a quarter mile. And since i’m an over protective mother who watches too many episodes of Criminal Minds I’m convinced someone will drive up in a windowless van, slide open the side door without even stopping and yank him in, no one the wiser.

Not so bad, but annoying: I find myself yelling to my daughter when she get’s off the bus. There always seem to be something she needs to hear before she gets to me. Like: “hurry up it’s freezing out here.” or “there’s no mail today, don’t stop at the mailbox and hurry up because it’s freezing out here.” Obviously, I didn’t move to the south.

What else is good about country living? There are farm stands all over the place that let you buy fruit and vegetables on the honor system. I know, right? These country folk actually trust their neighbors to leave money in a lock box and take only what they paid for. Are they for real? And certainly not from where I grew up. No way. That box would be cut from the wood, money taken, and all the fruit with it. Robbers get hungry too. Okay, I’m exagerating a bit. Sometimes the creative writer just takes over. I didn’t grow up in the ‘hood. Not exactly.

I’ve gotten some pretty good tomatoes living in the country. On my honor.