The Other Side of the Fence

From Mia Cope

Did you ever wonder what was on the other side of a fence?

From this side of the fence it seems that it must be something important or valuable, but always mystical. Even scary, at times.

On the other side of the fence, I can hear people working and talking and playing. All of it done without me. And I wonder.

The far side is a bit of a question mark. Sometimes, I get real close and see what I can through the narrow gaps between the slats. But there is always more that I can’t see.

Of course, on my side of the fence things are brightly lit even in the shadows of the trees. The fence brings security and peace . . . and solitude.

I like our fence from this side. Every day, at the end of our walk, Daddy first takes me to the front door so I can tell Momma I’m home. Then we walk to the back gate and cross into my inner sanctum. It’s my backyard. And, within reason, I can do whatever I want here.

On my side of the fence, my harness and leash are put away. I’m free to go anywhere and I can do almost anything I want. Daddy is not really okay with me digging in the lawn. But beyond that, anything goes.

Daddy does provide me with some creative license in the flowerbeds as long as no flowers are harmed by my digging. And really, we have few flowers in the backyard. Mostly shrubs.

My favorite pastime is exploring the paths between them — and planning my new zooming routes. Daddy often makes a sad attempt at chasing me. And he thinks he knows where I will reemerge from the bushes. I almost always surprise him.

Sometimes I sit and watch the fence. It never moves. It just stands and guards my yard. And in so doing, it guards me, too. I feel safe here.¹ I can relax.

Yet with all of the good things about a fence, there are some down sides. Keeping a fence in good repair is quite a big job. Not for me, of course. But Daddy patrols the fence and looks for loose planks. Out comes his hammer or, in some cases, his drill.

“Good fences make good neighbors,” he says. I wanted to quote him on that. However, he told me the line comes from a poet named Robert Frost. So, I pulled it up on the interweb and had a look. Sure enough, in a poem titled “Mending Wall,” the phrase appears twice. Both times it was uttered by the neighbor as he and the poet walked along a fence made of stones. The neighbor attributes the line to his father. This time together between neighbors was an annual meeting in which the participants stayed on their own sides and methodically repaired the wall. And the poet questions why the wall is necessary given the absence of any cows who might absent-mindedly stray from one side to the next. The neighbor only quotes the phrase in answer. “Good fences make good neighbors.” It seemed almost sad. Like the only time the neighbors spent time together was rebuilding a wall and enforcing boundaries.

Well, I do like my fence. And I like hearing my neighbors enjoying life on the other side. But walking down the street and through the front yards without fences and greeting those along the walk feels a bit more neighborly. And I wouldn’t mind seeing a few cows along the way.

1. You will probably want to file this under “Too Much Information,” but Daddy finds it fascinating that in the 15 months I’ve been here, I’ve not done my BIG business outside this yard except twice. And let me tell you, those were extreme and traumatic times. I like the safety of the yard. I also like the fact that Momma and Daddy are very attentive to cleaning up after me. It’s like every time is the first time. Safety and newness. Two great reasons to keep it close to home.