Doggie Door Days

Last night was DIY time at Chez Szondy as I installed a doggie door for Carl the Cattle Dog.

Ever since we installed the invisible fence he's had the run of the grounds, but it's an axiom of modern technology that when you install one device it's merely the prelude to a string of upgrades to the rest of the system. Carl may be able to run as he pleases when someone is home,but he still has to be locked in the house when we were away and we've quickly learned that while it's great to be able to have the doors wide open on warm, sunny days it's a bit of a pain having to leave the front door ajar on cold, rainy days so that Carl can get in. So, it was pretty obvious pretty quickly that we'd have to provide him with his own private entrance. It was also obvious that things wouldn't go as smoothly as the manual makes it look.

The first hurdle came when the door arrived on our doorstep (ironic, that). Since we live in the country where many of the neighbours' dogs roam free and all sorts of interesting wildlife from raccoons to coyotes to bears hang out, the old rubber flap over the hole job wasn't going to be an option. Instead, we plunked for a high-tech version with automatic locks and an infrared key so that only Carl would be allowed in or out.

First thing I did was to install the battery in the key that clips to Carl's collar. Of course, the picture in the manual shows the key hanging upside down in the picture, so I installed the battery in the key while it was rightside up-- and the battery was thus upside down. Five minutes later I was commenting to my wife that the thing was getting hot as a pistol and I burned my thumb taking it apart again.

Not sure whether or not I'd burned out the key, I then turned my attention to the door. Having carefully read the manual, I stole some batteries from an old label printer and installed them in the door. A light blinked on. Nothing happened. I reinstalled the batteries. Nothing happened. I waved the key in front of it. Nothing happened.

A night of fretting over whether I'd be stuck for return shipping costs later, I bought a fresh batch of batteries and tried again. This time the light came on, the door bleeped and it responded to the key as advertised. One for the home team.

Now it was time to install the door.

I marked out the dimensions on the back door, fetched my trusty cordless drill, inserted the bit... And discovered that I hadn't charged the battery all winter. So, it was plug it in, wait a half hour, drill a hole, plug it in, wait a half hour, drill a hole and so on.

Then it was sabre saw time. With confidence I cut a massive plug out of the woodwork, admired the tidy hole for a moment and inserted the door. Or tried to, anyway. The hole was a fraction too small. Ever try shaving particle board with a sabre saw? Ever try doing it while a four-year old is offering to "help?" It is not a pretty sight.

Door finally in, screw holes drilled, screw holes not aligning, holes redrilled, face plate wrestled into position, screws pounded in with mallet and the whole thing bolted together later, I put the key on Carl's collar and let him try out his new door.

Only to discover that the saw and drill had scared the living daylights out of him and that the clunking sound of the locking bolts sliding back were the final straw that sent him under the bed again. In the growing twilight, I pounded my head on the door jamb in celebration of a job well done.

Naturally, it was at this point that my wife asked me to read over a complicated legal document the size of a telephone directory that needed signing.

But that's another story.