How The Dog Realized He was Taller Than the Fence and Made a Fool of Me

Diary of Kuzo: Kuzo Triumphant

Kuzo, triumphant, legs extended, seemed to pause mid-flight as he sailed over the barricade that marked his boundary in the backyard to smirk in joyous defiance.

I stood helplessly, watching.

The coffee cup tumbled from my hand, brown liquid frozen in the air, a snapshot in time.

“Kuzo! No!”

But I was too late, the doggy was gone.

Tragedy! Tragedy! My young girls would never forgive me! I would endure, too, the wrath of my wife.

“Dang it Kuzo!”

A moment before, the puppy had shared a look with me. One of those all too human looks of dawning realization.

I’d let him out in the morning as was the routine. I was bleary, and it was cold. The snow littered the ground.

Kuzo stretched, his eyes fixated on the small fence I’d erected back in November when we had first brought him home.

The fence had been made of scrap paneling. I intended to manufacture something better in the spring.

Kuzo was small, the fence daunting.

But months had passed, and Kuzo had grown.

That morning, Kuzo paused to consider the fence.

He stretched, and then stopped and tilted his head.

Did a dog measure?

Was he calculating doggy sums in his head?

The longer he looked, the more I began to worry.

Most things don’t take us completely by surprise. There’s a building awareness, just enough to let us know in hindsight that we shouldn’t have been so stupid.

“Kuzo?” I asked.

Slowly, Kuzo turned his head to look at me. Then I knew, he had hatched a plan. You can tell by the eyes when mischief is afoot. I’d seen it in my baby girls before they could speak. Now I saw it in this baby dog.

He was going for it!

“No!”

Now he was quick, accelerating instantly to top speed. Approaching the fence, his legs came up like landing gear and he was airborne.

That’s when he turned to look at me.

He stuck out his tongue.

“Kuzo! No!”

I surrendered the coffee and dove for my shoes. It was twenty below zero out there. I came around the corner, stepped over the fence, and saw my delighted dog crouched down upon his paws.

“You chase me and I’ll chase you!” his body said.

“No! It’s not time for games Kuzo!”

But he was the master now.

He spun leaving a rooster tail of snow and sprinted around the corner. His paws were still too big for his body and he didn’t quite make the turn. He ended up rolling into the side of the garage before righting himself and heading out into the front yard.

“No, no, no, no, no!”

I shuffled after him hoping there wouldn’t be much traffic on the city street before our house.

Kuzo made two quick circuits of the yard.

Zoom!

Zoom!

Then he came back in front of me, just out of reach, smiling, panting. His tongue lolled out to the side.

“Isn’t this fun!”

“No! Would you get back over here?”

Gone again and again. He disappeared into shadow and emerged with an explosion of snowflakes.

“Seriously!”

Then, he zipped off. I lost sight of him. I stood alone in my front yard, ridiculous. How had I gotten here in life? All those years of college, all those years of working, all that labor and sacrifice to be made a fool of by a five month old dog.

The world became silent.

All parents learn to fear the silence more than noise.

Uh-oh.

Then, out of the distance, there was a thump, thump, thumping of little black paws upon the highway.

Kuzo came running over to sit obediently in front of me.

That, somehow, was the greatest mockery.

I reached down, grabbed his leash, and brought him back inside.

“Don’t do that Kuzo!” I growled.

I closed the door.

Kuzo’s big brown eyes looked up at me.

Back inside, I served myself another cup of coffee. Out the window, I noticed the flashing red and blue lights of a police vehicle driving by.

As the truck passed, I saw the words ‘Animal Control’ printed on the side. Somebody had called the cops!

“You see that Kuzo?” I said. “That’s because of you!”

I set down my coffee and reached down to pick Kuzo up so he could see.

“See? Animal Control!”

Kuzo started playfully biting my hand.

“If they get you it’s all over. That’s doggy jail! Understand?”

Big brown eyes.

I set Kuzo back on the floor.

Kuzo became alert, the sound of footsteps preceded the arrival of my daughter.

“Good morning boy!” Avril said. She and Kuzo commenced to playing for a few minutes. After a while, she looked up at me. “Oh, hi dad.”

“Good morning Avril,” I said.

“Is everything okay?” Avril asked.

“Yes,” I replied. I found I was still trembling from the mad morning dash.

Avril nodded, then she glanced over at the entryway.

“Why is everything covered in coffee?” she remarked.

I lifted my mug to my lips. As I did so, my eyes darted and happened to lock with Kuzo’s.

I swear he winked.