The "Fence" Game
April, 2004

Well, about right now I bet a lot of you are asking yourself--what in the world is the "fence" game?  Of course, unless you have a couple hundred dogs around you at all times--entertaining you every single minute of the day, I might add--you've probably never witnessed this "high energy" game.  Believe me, once you do--you'll never forget it.  Truly, it's hilarious!

You see, the way the game is played is this:  first of all, you have to have a "dividing" fence of some sort.  Here at The Trixie Foundation, we have chain link--and lots and lots of it.  So since there are always two separated sides on opposite sides of the fence, obviously, there are also two separated packs of dogs staring at each other through the chain link at any given time.  Now, for the game to begin, all it takes is for something out of the ordinary to occur.  For instance, every now and then a group of dogs will spot one of the cats nonchalantly, leisurely walking by, outside the sanctuary compound.  Or maybe they'll see a strange vehicle of some type simply drive by.  Heck, sometimes all it takes for the game to begin is for one of the guys working here to just come up to the main gate, seeking to ask me questions about a particular project that we might be working on.  Believe me, to initiate the game, it doesn't take much.  Anyway, once the game kicks in "high gear"--you have lots and lots of excited, howling dogs running back and forth along the fence line--barking and growling at each other--yipping, yapping--just daring the other dogs to "come on over."  Of course, that's impossible and will never happen as the chain link fence is five feet high and is buried in concrete.  Thus, the dogs continually, safely run back and forth and run and run and run some more--the "winner" being determined by which dog has the most stamina and is the last to tire out and lie down, exhausted from all of the commotion; it really is funny to watch.  And, I suppose, the dog that most excelled in this game of "driving Randy nuts," was my baby, Isabelle--a resident of The Trixie Foundation since being brought here as a several-week-old puppy (along with her abused, pit-bull mix mother and siblings), back in the summer of 1994.  Isabelle could really play the game well!  There wasn't another dog that could "hold their own" when she participated.  Sadly, though, I suppose it was about this time five or six weeks ago when I first noticed that my baby Isabelle had lumps protruding from her chest.  Rather than take a chance on letting the tumors get any larger, I sent Isabelle to the veterinarian to have them removed.  Then we requested a biopsy--sending off a tissue sample to be analyzed at a laboratory.  For several weeks afterwards, Isabelle seemed to be doing just fine.  However, by late March, I realized that the place where the tumors had been had now grown back and, were once again protruding from her chest.  Moreover, she didn't act like her normal self.  On Thursday morning, March 25, my baby Isabelle once again visited the vet.  As we had yet to be notified of the test results, our doctor telephoned the lab.  It was shortly thereafter that he informed me that my sweet baby of almost 10 years probably had no more than another 10 days or so left to live; the lymphatic cancer had already rapidly spread throughout her body.  Just a couple of hours later, Isabelle was happy to be back home here at the sanctuary; we even had our picture taken together.  Then, I prepared one of the dog runs for her to comfortably rest in--to be away from the commotion sometimes generated by the other, livelier dogs.  And, as she lay there on the fresh, clean straw, I sat beside her, gently holding her weak head so that she could drink from the bowl of cold, clear water that I had earlier drawn from the well.  After Isabelle drank her fill, she then rested her chin on the rim of the water bowl; it was then that I saw the all-too-familiar sign of approaching death on her precious face.  In just the twinkling of an eye--the shaking and the mild convulsions began.  As I reassuringly petted  on her, continually holding her limp paw and kissing her old yellow head, I told her how much I loved her and how much I was going to miss her.  A few minutes later, Isabelle's still-open eyes continued to stare off into the distance--her body, motionless forevermore.  And it was then that I wiped away my tears, slowly raising my head in the direction of her final gaze--and, much to my surprise, saw lots and lots of dogs--all sitting silently, reverently, side-by-side, staring intently through the chain link fence at the stilled body of the one whom they had come to know and love through the years--and now realized, would never, ever again play with them--the "fence" game. . . .

Randy Skaggs, Founder