The Dog Who Worked as a Gatekeeper

Our son was just a toddler when a lovable blond Shepherd/Collie pup came to live with us. Buff lived 15 years and was Jim's best friend every day of his life. Jim loved him unreservedly in spite of the fact that the dog had a crazy streak.

I could write a book about his antics, but one interesting story that comes to mind when I think about Buff is how he hated gates. It might be a more accurate statement to say he had a love-hate relationship with them. It was his life's challenge to show any gate we hung that he could open it at will.

At first we had an old wire, pasture-type fence with homemade wooden gates, which were fastened by looping over a nail in the gatepost, a link of a chain attached to the gate. As soon as Buff was tall enough to reach the chain, he had that one conquered. It was a constant battle to find a way to keep the gate fastened. Eventually, we came up with a snap-type fastener that could not be opened without using a thumb. The fastener hooked into a large staple in the gate post. Unfortunately, Buff had no thumbs.

But he never gave up. I went out on the porch one night after dark and saw him cruising down the busy street in front of our house with a pack of his friends. I could find no gates open, no breaches in the fence, and no holes under it. I can only assume he flew over it.

It wasn't just that he wanted out of the yard. After all, we turned him out several times a day to wander up and down the railroad tracks behind the house and explore the open areas near the house. He just wanted everyone to know that when he stayed in the yard, it was his choice to do so.

Later on we replaced the old fence with a chain-link fence. It took him about five minutes to figure out he could use his nose to raise the u-shaped latch that fit around the gatepost, push the gate open, and either go or stay, depending on his mood at the moment. Often he would unlatch it, shove it open, and go back to lie on the porch. It wasn't unusual to find him stretched out on the porch, chin on front paws, with a smug look on his face. Further investigation would find all three yard gates standing open.

My husband hung on each gate a string with a bent nail attached. The nail could be put through the hole in the latch, to prevent its being raised. This time it took Buff several minutes to find the answer. But he was, after all, getting older by then.

He found he could take the string in his teeth, and by pulling just right, the nail would follow, right out of the hole.

My husband then put the nail in from the back side of the gate. Buff was pleased. It was even easier to push the nail out with his nose from the inside, than to pull it out with his teeth.

We thought of the snap lock we had used on the old gate, but it was too large to go through the hole in the latch.

We often discussed what to do, and my husband said he'd get a combination lock for the gate, but he figured someone would give Buff the combination. So we just basically admitted defeat. If Buff wanted to keep out intruders, he could leave the gates closed. If he wanted company, he could leave them open. It was a foregone conclusion that he would come and go as he pleased.

The time came when I became friends with a woman who had had a lot of problems in the past. Let's just say she was unstable. But she was a good friend and I enjoyed her company. One day she came to visit and when she left, the front gate was standing open. "Oh no!" she said. "I must not have closed the gate when I came in. Buff could have gotten out and been killed."

I assured her that she hadn't forgotten, that the dog himself had opened the gate. Nothing I said could convince her I wasn't playing with her mind.

So the next time she came, as soon as she got in the house, I pulled back a curtain and said, "Look quick!'

She looked out just in time to see Buff push the nail out of the latch, shove the gate open, and then return to his place on the porch.

My friend threw open the door and shouted at the dog, "Buff, are you trying to give me another nervous breakdown?"

He just snickered and resumed his position-chin on paws, smug look on his face.