I have no idea if there's anything profound in this story I'm about to tell you, but if you've been following the fence project over the past few weeks, you have to hear this, profound or not.

Remember when I said, "this fence is only marginally doing what it was built to do?" Yeah. I have to tell you about that.

This past Friday night, our daughter and granddaughter came and slept over at our house while their guy was out of town. Saturday before they trekked back north, I said, "We need to take some pictures with the baby and the fence!"

Everybody agreed that this would be fun, so out we went, along with the four dogs. We have two, daughter has two. Four altogether: three fairly doofy poodle mixes, and one extremely intense mini dachsund with a Napoleon complex.

Just a bunch of people and dogs, trying to take a picture.

Our granddaughter, Michelle, at age 9 months, is an expert at selfies. We call them Michellefies.

Normally she looks at the screen and has a thousand fascinating expressions. (I'll have mercy and spare you the evidence for this seeming exaggeration.) This time, though, she just kept looking at the ground, because the dogs were racing around being crazy, and our Napoleon/dachsund friend, Peanut, was vociferously yapping at the fence.

Just as we took this photo, there was a creaking, cracking noise. The yapping increased, and when we looked down, there was the neighbor's dog, with his nose through a broken board in the fence, clearly intending to come over and have Peanut for dinner.

Of course, Peanut just regards this as another potential conquest, so he's all, "Come and take it, buddy," and Libby's saying, "Don't let that dog in here! Peanut will kill him!"

This is now Andy and I ended up holding a broken fence board in place in the middle of a dog drama. Like UN peacekeepers or something.