Every so often, I need to write a post on the wonders of owning a dog. Here’s one for the file:
This past Thursday afternoon someone tried to break into our house while I was home. “That’s terrible!” you might say, to which I would respond, “Not really.”
I was sitting in our den, which is located in the back of the house, furiously typing away on my laptop, trying to finish up a project. Our two dogs and our guest dog, the Luck Man, started barking furiously at the front door, the way they do when solicitors come whom they don’t know, or someone is putting a flier on the doorknob. I didn’t get up to investigate because no one rang the doorbell, I wasn’t expecting anyone, and I was busy. Besides, the dogs were clearly taking care of business and I had work to do.
They work as a team.
About twenty minutes later, I got up to stretch and do a few chores, one of which was picking up dog poop. When I walked out the front door to take the smelly bag to the trash, I noticed the screen door to our front bay window on the ground and the window itself wide open. Hmmm, I thought. This is exactly what Miss T and I came home to when we were robbed five years ago, after which we got our first dog. Looks as if I didn’t lock that window and someone tried to get in and rob the house again. When I remembered a few details of what had transpired – the dogs weren’t just barking at the door, one of them had run into the office where the bay window was located and went crazy – I quickly glanced into the room through the window to make sure nothing was amiss. Of course nothing was, because the intruder never made it past the window sash. Chances are, he faced the fangs and fury of our cattle dog and the entire incident lasted a few seconds. I don’t really know because I wasn’t paying attention. Because of these dogs, I take my safety in this house for granted – with obvious good reason.
I love my dogs. I love the Luck Man. They keep me company. They think I’m perfect. They’re super, duper cute. I love that they need me and I appreciate that they know I need them. Thursday, they did their job and I’ve never had to tell them what that is. This is their home, too, and if you’re not invited in, chances are they’re going to take a big bite out of you unless you leave, quickly.
I can’t honestly say I felt violated by what happened Thursday because the entire incident began and was over before I had a chance to react. The dogs were given extra cheese treats that day and I’m not mad anymore when Shelby sneaks onto the lawn I’m trying to repair on the side of the house. She deserves a nap on the soft, cool grass.
Sure, alarm systems are good, too, but I don’t trust myself to always set one and then remember not to set it off in the middle of the night. Besides, the dogs make me smile. I like scratching their bellies and watching their emotions on full display depending on what they’re doing with their tails and ears. It’s unconditional love wrapped up in a protective, furry, warning system.
Dogs – gotta love ‘em. If you don’t have one, what are you waiting for?
Life, Weekend cafe