In years past, I've had nothing but German shepherds or shepherd mixes or mongrels that were intellectually equivalent to shepherds. Now, we have terriers.

Going from a teacup poodle to a Great Dane would've been a less jarring transition.

Translation from German shepherd to English: "Sir, what can I do that might please you, sir?"

Translation from terrier to English: "Huh?"

That's not to say that terriers aren't intelligent. They are. Impressively so. It's just that mine have apparently taken an oath never to use their intelligence for anything but entertainment or extrication purposes.

Such is the case with Chewie, who I would like to reiterate is my daughter's dog. She paid for him with her own money. He loves her the most. Adores her unabashedly. Eats fewer of her belongings than those of other family members.

But he apparently doesn't love her - or the rest of us - enough to not attempt an escape every chance that he can.

At our old house, when our dogs went outdoors, they were either on leashes or hooked to lead lines. It was a miserable arrangement, one that often had them tangled and tripping, unable to play. At our new house, we recently made the substantial financial sacrifice required to fence in part of the yard for the sole purpose of being able to simply open our kitchen door and let the dogs out. We enjoyed standing at the window, watching them roughhouse and play, tree the occasional squirrel, and slam into each other at high rates of speed.

But after a few weeks, we began watching at the window for another reason - to try to see where Chewie was escaping so we could plug up the hole.

Because our yard is uneven and slanting downhill, any small gaps caused by the terrain were almost immediately hidden by leaves. Even though we've walked the perimeter so many times we feel like prison guards, that determined little Chewdini still finds ways to escape.

Making matters worse, he's nearly impossible to catch. He is fast and evasive and never, ever happier than when he's being chased. Unfortunately, he's also loud and obnoxious and relentless, and for that, my patient and (I hope) forgiving new neighbors, I'd especially like to apologize.

To those who have stopped your car or taken time out from your chores to join in our chase, I thank you. And to those who have restrained themselves from tossing out poisoned meat or purchasing a shotgun, please allow me to express my deepest appreciation.

Prior to installing the chain link, we considered invisible fencing. We decided against it because it wouldn't protect our two from stray dogs coming in. Plus we'd heard that type of fencing is sometimes ineffective with bullheaded terriers (who are apparently just fine with being repeatedly shocked in exchange for their freedom).

Over the holidays, I talked with one compassionate neighbor who said his professionally installed invisible fencing hadn't kept his dog in, so he had an extra-tall chain-link fence put in. As an added measure of precaution before letting his dog out in the newly fenced yard, he put the shock collar on, too.

His dog was up to the challenge.

"He barely even slowed," the man said.

So, nearly $4,000 later, the dog was still escaping. He gave up, and gave his dog to friends who live in the country.

We're not quite to that point, but our frustration is mounting. Our current solution is to tie Mylar helium balloons to Chewie's collar when we let him outside. They hinder his efforts to tunnel under the fence, while also enabling us to better track his whereabouts and identify the places he treats as weak.

There are many places. Places that are now barricaded with the kind of tacky, desperate blockades that tired, wet, cold people slap in place until the weather improves. And, when it does, we might start digging a moat.

Karin Fuller can be reached via e-mail at karinful...@cnpapers.com. Her columns can be accessed easily online through her blog at thegazz.com.