“Dad,” Ted said with an element of excitement, “we’ve got you a Christmas present.”

As Christmas was a week ago, this came as a surprise. I waited for him to elaborate.

“I can drop it off. You’re going to want to test it out.”

I couldn’t imagine what gift would require such immediacy that it couldn’t wait unless it was food.

“So it’s edible,” I said.

“Well, no,” said Ted.

I was intrigued. What sort of gift would expire if we didn’t act quickly? Maybe it was a gift card tied into a limited sale.

Ted provided a clue. The gift was linked to a subscription service. The first month was free, and the item could be returned for a refund during that period, but if you wanted to keep it there would be a monthly fee.

That had me guessing.

The answer was provided Saturday when Ted handed me a box with a device that looked like a watch without a dial. It’s called a Whistle.

“Your escape artist has just met its match,” reads the cover of the box featuring a dog wearing a pullover seated next to a suitcase overlooking a valley with a town. The Whistle is a GPS pet tracker that links to a cell phone so you “stay connected to your best friend whenever you are with the mobile app.”

Ted was delighted with his discovery. Maybe our days of fearing Ollie’s escape were over. With the Whistle we would be able to find him if he dug under the chain link fence, as has happened, or climb over it as he did last winter when drifts enabled his getaway.

There’s more to the Whistle.

I read on. The device could be used for activity tracking, allowing us to create custom activity goals, whatever they are, and track long-term trends. Furthermore, we could log meals and create medication reminders to stay on top of Ollie’s health and nutrition. And if you think that is carrying things to extremes, consider that the Whistle can provide alerts when Ollie is exposed to extreme heat or cold.

What might the alert be – a beep, followed by the information “Ollie needs his winter pullover” from his pen outside the back door?

Amazing, Carol and I would be able to keep track of Ollie no matter where we were. I could be at the office and know whether he was in or out of the house. For that matter, as the Whistle is connected to a cellular network, I could be in California and know that, too.

The Whistle is truly the canine version of the inmate’s ankle bracelet.

Carol was apprehensive.

Would the Whistle interfere with the invisible fence? Might he be subject to electronic pulses or waves that could be adverse to his health? And then she reminded me a chip was implanted just under his skin when we adopted him so he could be identified when found.

With the Whistle, he’d be a fully wired dog.

I doubt the Whistle poses any additional risk.

Even so, the prospect of keeping constant tabs on Ollie is more information than I need to know, although the Whistle would have been wonderful the day we mounted a posse to find him. He made his getaway in the mid-morning and by that afternoon the neighborhood was on alert, and neighbor Roger Keefe, the postal carrier, a UPS deliveryman, and a policeman were part of the search party. That hunt came to an end as the sun set and Ollie, a creature of comfort, decided it was time for dinner and a snooze in his favorite chair. He reappeared after a full day’s romp ready to settle in for the evening. We were relived but exhausted from worrying.

Even so, I don’t see us using the Whistle.

I have enough problems operating my smartphone. Add on an Ollie app, and it’s guaranteed my level of frustration would increase exponentially.

As the saying goes, “You can’t teach an old dog new tricks.”