I Don't Need No Stinkin' Electric Fence

I don't need no stinkin' electric fence

Vito, everyone's favorite ill-mannered pug (except James'), has started to make a name for himself in our new South Shore neighborhood. Maybe he's rebelling against his reclusive city mama who cowers behind the kitchen island whenever a neighbor comes within 50 yards, maybe he's just horny -- but every day, he busts out the screen door and hauls ass down the road. Weaving an erratic path along the street, he waddles through our neighbors' pristinely mulched flower beds, he bumrushes strollers, he dodges lawn mowers. I'm usually a jogging after him in my bare feet,promising him slices of Sara Lee honey turkey if he'd only come back to the house with me. Most of the neighbors have watched this scene unfold many times in the past month. As I shuffle past them, apologizing for Vito's unannounced raid, they smile, say "that's ok" and pet my wayward dog. Nevertheless, I'm certain we're a massive drain on their supply of neighborly patience. This morning, I found Vito four doors down winding up for a poop beneath a neighbor's rhododendrun. The neighbor, an older woman, scowled at us from behind her lace curtains as I gathered up Vito -- all 33 pounds of him -- and carried him home. Poor Vito is morbidly obese? He's overweight even for his portly-prone breed. . So we bought an electric fence a few weeks ago but haven't been able to find the 8+ hours of free time required to install it. We're hoping the electric fence, in allowing Vito free reign of his own yard, will do wonders for his weight, not to mention his manners..