Choppy has a rather long history of escaping from places where I (or others) had hoped she would be confined. She escaped my backyard with her doggy cousin Izzy during a party a couple years ago (none of the gates were open, and no holes were dug – I still don’t know how they managed that one, particularly as they haven’t repeated it despite spending lots of time back there). Of the many runs at the kennel where I board her, she is only allowed in three of them, as she has managed to figure out how to unlock the rest of the runs. This fall, Choppy escaped from my friend Neil’s house while we were at a football game, somehow managing to open two doors and get out of a fence gate, before being picked up and taken to animal control (my little doggy jailbird).

Our second night camping, Choppy escaped from the tent.

You would think that, having history of escapes, I would put Choppy in the car when I left her at the campsite, which is one of the few places she has yet to escape from (though I wouldn’t put it past her to figure it out). However, the other night, it was a bit warm, and I was just going to take a quick shower – I figured Choppy would be fine in the tent.

I was wrong.

As I finished up in the shower, one of the other campers (actually, one of the English campers I mentioned in earlier posts) came into the bathroom, asking me if I had meant to leave my dog wandering about the campground.

I most definitely had not.

And so, I found myself profusely thanking someone for rescuing my dog as she wandered around an unfamiliar location. I collected my little escape artist, and returned to the tent, where Choppy settled in for the night, seeming to have no desire to leave the tent again.

Me, on the other hand? I fell asleep pondering how I am going to escape-proof the tent

Choppy Tent HeadChoppy, escape artist, demonstrates her escape technique.