Living with an adolescent

Charley is growing up.

At 17 mos, he has the social skills of an impulsive 12-year-old. He is motivated by fun: everything is a potential toy; everyone is a playmate.

Like Klaus.

Klaus, the boxer who lives on the other side of the privacy fence that encloses our yard, is Charley's age, and they are buddies. We should not have been surprised when they conspired to tunnel under the fence to play. Klaus' people are good sports about this, but they have small children who could be injured, so efforts to secure the perimeter occurred on both sides. First they put in an electric wire and fitted Klaus and Clover, his gal pal, with special collars. That kept them in, but it did not keep Charley out. Then I had a load of big rocks delivered which I placed along the fence. That slowed them down for just a bit. They found a sweet spot where they dug under the rocks. Filled that in with bigger rocks. That was when I discovered their accomplice was the very strong little boy who lives with them. The biggest rock of all may have finally put an end to this.

Now winter is setting in and the ground is too hard for easy digging. Nasty weather makes it hard to ensure my dog gets enough exercise. Charley misses his friend and their playful romps and I feel bad for him. He has been grounded to the backyard and he is lonely. Play dates will be arranged.

This is the life of any parent whose adolescent has a social life but no drivers license.