Max was full of life and full of energy and he had such a unique personality. Since he had been one of my fathers bird dogs, he stayed in a lot out behind the house. This dog was an escape artist along the lines of a canine Harry Houdini. He dug a hole about three feet deep under his pen and somehow managed to squeeze his big body under his fence and get out. He would make a beeline for the house wanting in, or wanting to play, or just to show me it could be done.
This was a pattern that repeated itself throughout his life but he only had the best of intentions. He wanted to be free. I tried everything I could to an end to his escape artistry but I never completely put a stop to it. The best effort I made was to fill his hole woth bricks and logs from my fathers wood pile and that slowed him down more than anything.
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