Mr. Baggins was a great dog. He was a Wire Haired Fox Terrier, and shared our home and life when the boys were young. He was very smart. After several years with us, he suddenly turned into an escape artist.
Our back yard had chain link fences that were about five feet tall. Mr. Baggins was a sturdy dog, about twenty pounds. When he started getting out of the yard, we naturally started looking for holes under the fences. Digging is not uncommon with terriers. We never found a hole, but just to make sure, John put logs around the edges of the fence line. The next time Baggins went out in the yard, he again disappeared. Within about five minutes the front doorbell rang, and a neighbor came over with the dog in his arms. "Here he is again."
We tried staying in the yard with him, but he'd just sit there and watch us watching him. Finally, we let him out alone and went to a window and crouched down, hidden from view. Mr. Baggins sauntered through the yard, actually looking in the windows. When he decided he was really alone, and not being watched, he walked to the corner of the house.
Once there, the little rascal turned and faced the far corner of the yard. You could almost hear the music from the Lone Ranger as he galloped across the yard, picking up speed. Three feet from the corner was the boys' little round exercise trampoline. A couple of feet short of that, Mr. Baggins took a mighty leap. He hit that trampoline with all four legs stiff and straight, and bounded up from there to the very top of the chain link fence, where he balanced for about two seconds. Then he just popped off onto the sidewalk on the other side.
Didn't I say he was smart? He did have his limitations, though. Once we moved that trampoline, he never could figure out how to move it back into position. And that was his final escape.