Extra! Extra!

There is an extra dog in my back yard.
This spontaneous canine generation is a new and unwanted phenomenon.
My DH has taken measures to prevent said event from happening.
But it has happened again.
I was minding my own business and the extra dog simply appeared.
What, no picture? You ask.
Nope. I am doing all I can to keep my rapscallion mongrels from waking up the baby AGAIN to announce the presence of an extra dog in the back yard. The kid needs to sleep, people.
I'm not sure how he got back there this time as the hole he previously dug under the fence has been filled with a 20-lb bag of leftover mortar from the last home improvement project.
But the extra dog is back and he's making my yappers even yappier.
Now I've heard of dogs escaping out of their yards; this is the first I've heard of escaping INTO one.
The thing is, I feel sorry for this mutt. (His name is Toby, btw) He's been Houdini-ing out of his yard along with Maggie the WonderBeagle (not "Jack's Dog", the Marauding, Trash-day-litter-strewing-Beagle) for two years now and I've been escorting them home on a regular basis. Guess he really found a place he loves. I just can't give him a home. Tex always seems to get a case of the upset tummies every time they interact, and I just can't deal with anything else. So no extra dogs.
Oh, great, now he's in the front yard marking all the bushes outside this window. All the barking makes my head hurt. . .