by Belinda Brown

Created on: September 14, 2009

This is a story about a dog I used to have. As much as I loved him, he would have to be the most difficult dog I had ever met in my life. I named him Joey, because he had an incredible ability to jump really high obstacles, such as fences, for an example. Joey was boxer crossed with a dingo, so his breeding had a lot to answer for his wild ways, I guess.

Joey pretty much found me one New Years Eve, when I was having a few quiet drinks at home. Joey casually walked around the side of my house and kind of never left. I was actually thinking about getting a dog after the New Year, so I was pretty surprised that he chose my house.

All was fine for the first two weeks and I was enjoying being a dog owner. Until Joey realized that he could make a very enjoyable game of jumping my side fence. There was no way in hell that I could keep that dog in my back yard. Even though I took Joey on long mornings once in the morning and once at night, he would still create havoc on my once quiet street.

Each day, the fence managed to get higher and higher. I would sit at my kitchen window and watch Joey take a long run up and haul himself of the fence. After the neighbours heard me swear at the dog profusely and call it all the names under the sun, they enjoyed a very laughable game of catch me if you can.

It got to the point that I was on a first name basis with the rangers at my local pound. In the end, they used to feel sorry for me forking out twenty five dollars every three days, so it got to the point that they used to drop Joey off at my house every afternoon. Only to be surprised to see me running down the street five minutes later after the dog. I really couldn't help but to feel like an irresponsible dog owner.

A year later, I could not handle Joey anymore. Not only was he escaping but he was giving innocent little old ladies innocently walking by my house a heart attack, by jumping up on them and he was also chasing every single neighbourhood cat out of the whole vicinity. I still, to this day, do not know where my poor old tom, Sebastian went to.

I decided that Joey would be better kept on a farm, where he wouldn't be locked up in a backyard for half the day. My brother owned a farm about an hour out of Perth, and I thought that he was the perfect candidate to look after Joey for a while and maybe give me a hand with training, since he had dogs all his life and was really good with dogs.

On the way to his farm with Joey, however, he decided to park the car in town and duck into the supermarket for a quick packet of cigarettes. Much to his disbelief, he came back to see the back window of his car smashed, where my nice little doggy decided to jump through the window and take off.

A day later, my brother found him in the pound, surprisingly uninjured from the window. By the end of the month, my brother was now on a first name basis with the rangers but unfortunately for him, the rangers did not feel sorry foe him. My brother was paying for their wages! The last time Joey escaped, my brother did not bother to go looking for him. He phoned me and told me that he tried, but the dog is not able to be trained. I reluctantly had to agree.

I am now pleased to say that I am the proud owner of a Bull Mastiff cross Boxer and I am also pleased to say that she does not jump fences. She is an angel. I do often think about Joey a lot and often wonder if he had owned any one else after myself and my brother.

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