• Originally published July 22, 2008 at 11:20 p.m., updated July 22, 2008 at 11:20 p.m.

After moving last week from the country to inside Victoria, I’m certain of three things.

I hate moving, we have way too much stuff – especially heavy stuff – and one of my three dogs is smarter than I am.

No offense to the other two dogs.

We always knew Bear, our 3-year-old black Lab, was a bit clever.

She’s the dog who, about two years ago, embarked on a late-night mission.

She sneaked outside, crawled under and over two strands of backyard electric wire, shimmied to a 4-foot chain link fence, pawed her way to the top and then dropped to the neighbor’s yard below.

I imagine she then stopped, looked both ways, smiled and then tiptoed to my neighbor’s home, stopping for a second at each bush – like commandos in the movies do – before crawling on her stomach into the doggie door.

Bear then crept down a hallway and crawled into my neighbors’ bed, which was, as you might imagine, occupied by my neighbors.

Luckily, my neighbors knew Bear. They carried her back to the fence, said good night and dropped her back into our yard.

If you knew Bear – who apparently always just pretended to be un-athletic and a little plump – you’d know how impressive that late-night operation was. I’ve seen her struggle to climb onto the sofa.

Bear is no ordinary dog.

When she was a puppy, she’d wake me each morning with panting and a pair of socks. She helped to choose my clothes for the day.

When she and our other two dogs became too big to sleep with my wife and I at night, she rebelled.

While we slept, she’d go outside, gather sand and pile it at our closed bedroom door.

We locked her outside one day. Did she resign herself to the backyard? Of course not. She broke a ground-floor window and climbed inside.

She yawns – every time – when I scold her.

She talks to us. For no reason, she’ll walk to a spot about 10 feet away, bark for 10 seconds and then flop on the ground.

I don’t get it either.

Of our three dogs, she’s the only one who is not afraid of tape measures and the sound plastic sacks make when you bunch them together.

She didn’t take well to the move, though. At the new house, she seems nervous. She’s not quite her old self just yet.

Instead of stealing my wife’s shoes, she sits with her back to any door she can find. Bear’s getting more adjusted, though.

How do I know?

Until we have an 8-foot privacy fence – like the one we had to build in the country after Bear’s late-night mission – we’re keeping the dogs in kitchen. I barricaded the doorway.

Bear, though, crawled over my 4-foot barricade – something I’d struggle to do – without moving a thing. She left the other dogs behind and dumbfounded.

Once on the other side, I imagine Bear looked both ways, smiled and then tiptoed to the living room. She shimmied to our sofa, pawed her way to the top and then dropped for a nap.

When I got home for lunch, she was cuddled on a cushion. I still don’t understand how she escaped my barricade.

And she’s not talking. When I scolded her, all she did was yawn.

Gabe Semenza is the Public Service Editor for the Advocate. Contact him at 361-580-6519 or gsemenza@vicad.com, or comment on this story at www.VictoriaAdvocate.com.

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