Dr. Adam Bomb, Science and Technology Correspondent
It is three o’clock in the morning, and I find myself once again waiting for Fred to come home. I am fuming, and my wife is in tears upstairs, unable to sleep. This time he has snuck downstairs, jimmied the lock to the basement door, casually hopped the backyard fence, and is out and about on the town in the hunt for more, excuse me, “tail.” I am worried sick about him all over again.
But why? He reminds me of myself when I was young. Rebellious. Good looking. Athletic. Boundless energy. And to top it all off, a real trouble maker. We have lectured him over and over about the problems that await him if he’s not careful who he runs with — from fast cars to the dangers of unprotected sex. But Fred goes his own way, just like tonight.
Hands down, Fred is the smartest dog I know.
Now I don’t mean the usual “isn’t that cute” type of smarts when a dog can balance a bone on its nose, roll over and play dead, or perform any number of the “stupid pet tricks” you might see on David Letterman. I mean this dog is scary smart.
We were first introduced to Fred, a Jack Russell terrier, when he was a pup. Our son Brock was home from college for spring break and picked him up one day from “Rent-A-Pup,” a store here in town that rents puppies for $8.00 per hour to guys looking to meet girls. The idea is you “own” the dog for just a few hours, long enough for a few walks in the park or on the beach. Without fail, the adorable puppy serves as a magnet to any number of equally cute young girls.
Rent-A-Fred
They, in turn, can’t resist playing with the pup, and hopefully, providing their phone number as well to this sensitive guy. Our tale takes a sharp wag here because when Brock rented Fred he met Michelle who not not only provided her phone number, but eventually after two years, her hand in marriage. This courtship necessitated some fancy footwork on my part because after Brock returned to school that year, I was forced to dash to “Rent-A-Pup” every time Michelle called asking if she could drop in to say “hi.” Eventually, it became both easier on my conscience and my wallet to switch from Rent-A-Fred to Buy-A-Fred, and here we are.
We first noticed there was something odd about Fred when he was going through house training. We get the New York Times delivered at home, so there was no lack of newspaper to spread when it came time for him to learn to do his “doody” in the right spot. “All the news that’s print to sh*t,” I thought. But try as we might, he adamantly refused to relieve himself on the Times. There he would sit, for hours and hours, sweating and groaning as though he had to go, all the while darting his head back and forth as though scanning the headlines, the Sports section, anything he could lay his paws on. He seemed to have a particular fascination for the Op-Ed section and the Sunday Crossword. Several times I found him howling over a Maureen Dowd column. However, throw down a few paper towels or an old grocery bag or two, and relieving himself was no problem. I discounted this strange behavior at the time as, after all, no dog can read, no matter how smart they are.
At least that’s what I kept telling myself. After a while, it became routine for the Times to go missing from the driveway, and like clockwork, I would find it neatly folded, but clearly read, just outside of Fred’s dog house. One week, on a lark, I took a trial subscription to the Wall Street Journal. Strangely enough, all week, I noticed the paper was terribly shredded and carried the faint odor of dog pee while it lay on the door step outside. And liberal too?
The matter grew more complicated when a book arrived in the mail one afternoon apparently ordered from Amazon.com. 
Entitled “Jack Russell Training Secrets,” I set it aside presuming my wife had ordered it for me for Christmas, or perhaps it was a guilty gift from our son for having left us with Rent-A-Fred. In any event, the book went missing and was never discovered among the stacks of newspapers and magazines that by now had found themselves in a “library” stored in a large box where Fred’s toys were supposed to go. No one in the family fessed up to ordering the book, and we started to get concerned.
Helllllllloooooo, Mrs. Draper
The “invisible” electric dog fence and collar I ordered came in October, a purchase I reluctantly made because Fred left us with no choice. He had found ways to dig under or climb over every square inch of our fence line and the neighbors were having fits over his antics. Mrs. Draper from three doors down complained loudly that she found Fred often lurking and peering into their bathroom window during her morning shower. Mr. Lindstrom apparently fired several 22-caliber rounds toward Fred for gnawing the corks off of his prized collection of Chateau Lafite stored in his garage. More than once Fred was dragged at the collar by Animal Control to our home late at night with the equivalent of fake I.D. — a set of false dog tags bearing the name and address of older and different breeds in the neighborhood.
Wind 5 mph; angle 37 degrees
Suffice it to say that training with the electric collar and fence was no easy chore. The instructions stated clearly that a dog of Fred’s size could not and should not tolerate a “shock setting” on his collar of anything larger than a “3″ on a 10 point scale, otherwise serious nerve damage, even brain injury or death could result. The problem was at settings “2″, “3″, and even as high as “4″, Fred treated the collar shock he received when he neared the invisible fence as though it was but a pesky flea. He simply kept right on walking. The collar was obviously defective. With my neighbor Mrs. Draper egging me on, I cranked the setting to “9″, the one reserved for Great Danes and St. Bernard’s, just to determine if any of the settings would work at all. Obviously having had a month to study this chapter of “Trainings Secrets” with particular zeal, Fred had calculated that the electric shock could be severely reduced, indeed almost eliminated, if he maintained a constant 37 degree angle to the length of the wire when jumping across. I watched as he measured his angle of attack and carefully stepped over the invisible fence with ease, heading once again toward the Chateau Lafite down the street. This was too much to bear. I raced after him, grabbed the defective collar from his throat, and clasped it to my own neck in disgust and with the certainty that I had bought a worthless product. Two days later, I awoke in the hospital with my wife and Fred staring down at me in deep sympathy.
With the exception of waiting up for him during late nights like this, we now let Fred go his own way. I can’t say we are happy with the results, but we have little choice. I started to play checkers with him for relaxation when I got home from work, but I have not beat him in weeks, so I’ve quit.
Mr. Lindstrom is the next to be humiliated. He has placed a new lock on the door to his garage. Sadly for him, this won’t work. I know this because two days ago, my wife caught Fred preparing a disguise that is surely meant to gain re-entry to Lindstrom’s house on Halloween in just a few weeks.
We are slated to take Fred to be neutered this Saturday. But I am sure he overheard us. He must have. We have not been able to find our car keys for three days.
Copyright 2008 The Saturday Morning Post – All Rights Reserved
[...] Writing Frontier wrote an interesting post today onHere’s a quick excerptWe get the bNew York/b Times delivered at home, so there was no lack of newspaper to spread when it came time for him to learn to do his “doody” in the right spot. “All the news that’s print to sh*t,” I thought. But try as we might, b…/b [...]
Note for our readers: As soon as we determine the connection between Rental Cars and this story, we will inform you directly.
SMP
My dog died. Cancer got him and I suspect it could of been that Chinese feedstock. It’s worse in China because the commies are killing their babies with milk. If we got nothing else in the USA, we have plenty of cows and milk. Now we owe China all this money and have all of a sudden gone broke. I guess we’ll need to build our own toy factories now since our credit is no good in China. The toys were crappy any old way. If they do for toys what they’ve done with milk we are better off without them. We might be able to figure out how to make personal computers in the U.S.. I know, that would be too much work when we could all be out of work and begging. We’ve gone from burning man nitwitism to burning economy realism and the party crashers are real nervous. They should be and combat operations continue as planned.
Sorry about your dog dying. Fred, the hero of our story (above) prepares his own food, so fortunately he was spared the Chinese food.
SMP
Thanks. He came here in 2001 and was a good friend during the 9/11 days. He kept our spirits up and did his job. I’m planning a move and when I get settled I’ll get another dog. Until then it’s 4 fish.
If you decide to get a Jack Russell terrier, may we suggest you purchase a lie detector machine, as well as join a book club of your/his choice.
SMP
I can only sympathized and commiserate. I have a 4 year old Border Collie and I think Jersey and Fred may be in cahoots together. She actually has my neighbor terrified because she stares at him all the time. Since Borders are only 2% removed from a wolf and the closest genetic relative I prefer to think that she is looking at him as food. He swears she knows what he is thinking (honestly thats not much). She does seem to have ESP and can easily predict what my wife and I are going to do next.
I don’t think the troops are going to have to bring Fred home or adopt him. Does he smell like cordite when he comes home? I swear I saw him in some pictures with the Spec-Ops guys working in the mountains of Afghanistan and Pakistan…..
Fred took leave for two weeks about a month back and refused to let us know where he was going, so our bet is that those sightings in the cross border area you noted are very real. Thanks for tracking him.
SMP
[...] Posted by darcZombie on October 17, 2008 Writingfrontier left a link to a story about his dog Fred and I wanted to post the link here on the main page because I thought the story was hilarious! So here it is: Shocking Dog Tale [...]
Most kind of you. Fred sends regards.
SMP
Yes, Fred is one smart pup. But does he keep you warm at night? My Great Dane saves on my utility bill, since I don’t need heat in the winter with him cuddled next to me.
Sad to say, Fred keeps us up rather than keeps us warm. He sends his regards and would like to know if yor Great Dane has a cell phone number he might use. Something about seeing if they can hook up together on his next late night jaunt around the neighborhood.
SMP
My brother, Richard, had a golden retriever who may have been a close relative of Fred’s. “Sheba,” was from the Springfield, IL branch of Fred’s clan and liked nothing more than touring the neighborhood in search of friendship and handouts. Her escapes– and escapades– became so frequent that, like you with Fred, my brother resigned himself to them. Hungry for lunch one day, Richard pulled into the drive-up lane of the local McDonald’s and placed his order. There were three cars ahead of him, with a noticeable gap between the first two. He didn’t think much of it other than the minor irritation you get at people in long lines who do not pay attention and thus do not shorten the line when they should. As the first car pulled away, he noticed the second car (the one with the driver suffering from attention-deficit disorder) still wasn’t moving. Now he was perturbed. He opened the window, hung his head out and was about to yell at the inattentive motorist until he noticed the four-footed pedestrian perched hopefully at the food window. Sheba. Her wait was brief; a worker’s hand emerged; and several hamburgers went flying, expertly picked off in mid-air by his dog the con artist. You couldn’t accuse her of butting in line. She had apparently waited her turn, inching forward as the motorists in front of her got served. The restaurant employee later confirmed Sheba as a “regular.” Have you noticed whether Fred is putting on any weight lately? You might want to buy him a fast-food calorie guide, just in case he’s been making nocturnal visits to the local franchise row.
Now we are putting the pieces together. Fred received a text message from a “Sheba” a few months back inviting him out for a meal. We refused to make the drive as Illinois seemed a long way for lunch.
SEP
So that explains my brother’s big cell-phone bill– the back-and-forth texting between Fred & Sheba is pricey. But you can’t blame Fred for his interest: Sheba is a shameless hussy!
Hussy? Photos and phone number, please.\
SMP
I think we have a distant cousin of Fred’s on our block. His name is Wriggles and he is one of those ‘fancy’ hybrids, half wire hair Jack Russell and something else. Wriggles does however hold true to the family name. He is clearly of the opinion that ‘the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence’ or that ‘if he can’t see it (the world), he must be missing something’. He is frequently spotted elsewhere. Fortunately, he is of a most excellent disposition, friendly with all animals and humans (well, maybe not squirrels). Recently I saw another humane human cross-looping him to his dog’s lead with intention of taking him home (again). I went over and said hello and suggested he call the number on the back and pointed the way to Wriggles house.
Should I offer to daycare Mr. Wriggles? Somehow I think he would prefer a Tom Sawyer like boy to wander the world with than a computer jockey.
The breed is a hoot…but your IQ and security system better be pretty high before you consider one!
We have consulted with a canine genealogist, and you will be delighted to know they are 2nd cousins, twice removed. Great dogs. Small world.
SMP
I think my new granddog is half dachshund and half Jack Russell terrier. He is totally terrorizing my older granddog Mollie, a border collie, who now spends most of her time under the bed while Scout whizzes around the house. But Fred should be safe–my daughter adopted Scout after his previous people moved away, leaving him locked in their backyard with no food or water. He cries if he’s outside and the back door is shut, even if one of his people is outside with him.
But I don’t know about computers. He likes to sit in Faith’s lap when she’s on the computer, and I’m pretty sure he’s studying it carefully. Nobody knows what goes on at that computer when none of the people are home. Check Fred’s messages and see if he’s talking with Scout. Heaven only knows what they could cook up together.
He won’t use the newspaper, either, or even that special emergency potty paper that Faith buys for Mollie. He prefers the magazine rack for such purposes. And he got so mad at the shoes that made Faith fall down that he ate them. A picture of the shoes’ remnants and Scout is on I Can Has Cheezburger or its companion dog site. He ate the shoes very neatly, just as if he were eating corn on the cob.
Amazing dog!
I wish I had a russel. I have a basset and he is a kook. But not as smart and frisky as your hunny!
I think that one of the renters trained him. Sorry to spoil the mood. But the fence and stuff…definately that einstein. One of the renters probably said no newspaper…that’s it.
I hope my basset, Morocco, can meet up with ur little guy!!!
Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!!!!
Emma
We found a “Morocco” in Fred’s rolodex. We are thinking Fred has made it into your neighborhood.
SMP
Mr. Freckles, my border collie mix would like to know if Fred can come to Los Angeles. We have a problem with deer eating our roses and fruit buds. Freckles thinks he and Fred just might be the answer to the problem.
One question: does Fred have a license for a concealed weapon? Freckles has a record, so he can’t carry!
Fred lives in San Diego and takes the train there often so this is not a problem. Coincidentally enough, he has two deer outfits and a shot gun in a shed behind his house so we presume he will arrive ready.
SMP
Dear Fred:
If you let us know when you will arrive there will be a vehicle waiting.
The deer are eating everything in site and my owner awaits your arrival.
Best,
Freckles
Fred sounds like great fun! How does he feel about inter-racial dating? My cat Ginger loves to pal around with the dogs in our building. She has no tolerance for other cats, however. Maybe we can make a play date.