We just built this shed behind our house, sort of to use as a garage/workshop, whatever.
The dogs don't have much interest in it at all, of course, until this weekend when they noticed that bugs and other small critters were going beneath it. Then were FASCINATED and on a mission. It is the job of any Boston Terrier to remove other living creatures from any type of enclosure, even if the creature wants to be there.
Once the dogs got excited that afternoon it crossed my mind for a split second that they might go under the shed. But there's only about 4 inches between the steel base and the concrete, and they would just not fit. No way... Oh, unless they are driven like Acorn, scoping out the one spot where the leveling is about one inch higher, turning sideways and squeezing with all her might.
So Acorn is wedged under the shed at 1am Saturday night. All fun and games for her until she's upright on the other side of the steel base and finds she can barely move under there, mashed onto the cold concrete, nails from the flooring all around her head.
We coax her but soon realize she cannot come back out unless she tries the EXACT same point of entry and body position. Desperation. She can come to the edge and stick out her nose, and I can pet her, but I can't get her to turn sideways or even go to the place where the opening is big enough to pull her out.
Aaron starts ripping out the flooring we've spent so much time putting in, but at the bottom layer it's gonna take a saw to cut down to her. She usually runs away at the sound of any tool, so she might flip out at the saw sound and rip herself all up on the nails. Desperation. The neighbor, a plumber, has a yard full of tools and gadgets, so we have to wake him up next. Poor guy comes over half asleep, making several trips back and forth before he can think of what to try. The shed weighs tons, but jacks won't fit under it anyway.
Acorn never cries---she's so tough, but she's panicked under there, breathing fast and crying little bits. So sad. I'm thinking about calling the fire department.
Then the neighbor comes back with the biggest crowbar on the planet. I think he brought it down from the beanstalk or it was made from the shin-bone of a brontosaurus.
Three guys pull on the crowbar at the corner of the shed until it lifts about one inch. Really, if even that. Probably mostly out of fear of the whole structure moving, Acorn allows me to flip her over and pull her just as the crowbar is cracking the wood and losing grip.
Immediately following this episode the opening around the base of the shed is sealed.
Here's Acorn, 2am, in the house all relieved and warm. Did she learn her lesson? No, if the opening was still there, she'd go right back.
"I'd do it again."
On an entirely different note... While looking for a picture of a brontosaurus bone, not only did I learn to spell it again (dangit, used to know all the dino names when I was a kid), I found this picture of a poor little brontosaurus in a small chain-link pen. Come on, folks, we can't keep these grand creatures in places like this. Give your pet dinosaur much more room to roam.