The escape artist has done it again, confirming our long held belief that our rescue dog has a mind of his own and is remarkably lucky.

Ollie has outsmarted our combination of invisible and real fencing before. He’s tunneled under the chain-link fence despite the use of bricks and cinderblocks for reinforcements. Once his collar caught on the jagged ends of the chain-link, pinning his neck to the ground. Fortunately, Carol found him before he hurt himself and his attempt to follow a scent beyond the borders of our property was thwarted. It hasn’t always been like that, however.

He’s burrowed his way to the neighborhood, leading us on wild chases where he gleefully ignores our calls and, nose to the ground, keeps running and running. Last winter he discovered snow drifts large enough for him to vault the fence. In those instances, his tracks gave him away and after an hour of pursuit, he lost the scent and we would catch up to him, nose quivering, taking in a snowy scene. Actually, being a coonhound from North Carolina, the cold probably got to him and it was time to come home anyway.

The invisible fence has held the line. That was, until last Wednesday.

Ollie was wearing his collar that sends off a warning signal followed by a shock should he get too close to the fence line. We’ve seen him jump back when he gets the warning and yelp if he attempts to cross the line, so we know it works. He knows just where the line is and makes certain to avoid it.

As an added measure, we’ve affixed a cowbell to the collar. As he rarely comes when called, the bell at least lets us know at what corner of the yard we might find him.

Carol was outside doing yard work Wednesday when she suddenly realized it was unusually silent – no bell. She went inside, thinking he had pushed the door open and was probably asleep on our bed. There was no Ollie. Feeling a rise of panic, she went to the seawall. It was low tide and there were Ollie’s tacks headed north. Her fears were confirmed.

“He’s off,” she announced in an alarmed call about 2:30. She gave me the details, chastising herself for not having changed the battery in this collar as she had been planning to do for the past week. Maybe it was the battery, but more likely the collar was too loose and Ollie didn’t pick up the warning or the shock.

Regardless, he was gone and we were on the hunt. Roger Keefe, our faithful neighbor who has joined us on such escapades in the past, immediately took up the hunt. Heading north, Carol weaved through the streets of Conimicut, Cole Farm and beyond into Hoxsie. Roger covered a lot of the same ground and so did I when I joined the search. We all talked with people. Some were walking their dogs. Others were raking their yards or jogging. The police said they would keep out an eye for a dog “wearing a cow bell,” which surely made them wonder what else they might find in our yard.

“Have you seen a dog with a cow bell?” I asked of a contractor I encountered when I expanded my search to Gov. Francis Farms. He laughed.

“Cow bell?”

I didn’t try explaining. “Well, grab him if you see him. He loves people.”

Still chuckling, the man said he would.

The only sighting we learned of was about 4 p.m. at the Walgreens at Hoxsie Four Corners. Roger checked the property and Freddy Cavanaugh, who lives not that far away and had heard of Ollie’s escape, checked, too.

Then the trail went cold and so did out spirits with the setting sun. Carol took the east side of West Shore Road. I concentrated on the west. Every so often we’d see Roger. Finally, at about 8, I returned home and so did Carol.

We didn’t need to say anything. Both of us were wondering where Ollie would spend the night and hoping that at any moment he would show up at the door. I checked the seawall. He wouldn’t be returning that way. The tide was high. We had no appetite for dinner. Every outdoor light was on.

Then close to 9, Carol got the call from Warwick police. A family had found a dog with a cow bell and had taken him home. She took down the address and with a sense of relief we drove to Nash Street off Church Avenue. This was totally the opposite direction from where he had been seen.

And then came the surprise when the Collins family invited us into their home.

They have two rescue dogs. They were at Dave’s Marketplace about 4:30 that afternoon when they spotted Ollie in the parking lot. He was black with mud, probably from running though the mashes of Occupasstuxet Cove, and looking bewildered. Another shopper said they had seen him cross the intersection from D’Angelo’s. They fashioned a leash out of shopping bags and brought him home.

They also took pictures, which they posted on Facebook. That’s how police made the connection.

At Nash Street, Ollie was welcomed like royalty. They hosed him off and then Samantha Collins gave him a bath. He fit right in with their two dogs, although the cats knew better and stayed away. Ollie was fed and when we arrived we found him on the couch – their two dogs were on the floor. Ollie was curled up and ready to sleep. He opened his eyes at our arrival. There was no excited reunion. Quite the contrary, we were interrupting his sojourn.

We talked. Carol hugged Ollie’s saviors.

Once at home, Ollie headed for his chair, and with a sigh that said, “I’ve had a tough day,” he went to sleep.