it's going to tunnel under my house and steal my easily pawned electronics
Yesterday a friendly and smiling and Hello Ma'am-ing cop showed up at my door to inform me that the house next door had been broken into. "They lost a coupla tvs," he told me. "Didja hear anything?"
(I've noticed, lately, that I'm getting a lot of "Ma'am" from people. I am not sure how I feel about this. I'm not yet old enough to really enjoy my age, and while I can't wait to get there, I am also doing the typical female thing and clinging in confusion to my fading youth. But anyway.)
I had not heard anything, though I'd got home around midnight or one, which was a damned nuisance since the porch light had gone out and I haven't gone to the shop to get more bulbs. Then I spent another few hours failing at falling asleep, watching a movie while curled up with/on/under Riley in bed. Riley hadn't made a sound to indicate anything was amiss. Though in Riley's defense, the comings and goings of homo sapiens next door are none of her concern. She probably noticed, but didn't see fit to raise the alarm.
Last night, about two in the morning, I was living the wild life - curled up on the couch with the dog, watching Dr. Who. I was watching the tv, that is; she was getting her ears scratched. Then she hauled herself upright, putting an elbow into my spleen, raised her hackles, and let me know that something was not right. This was the alert/warning noise, not the LOL I LIKE TO BARK AT SKWIRLS noise. There is a big difference. Her alert involves lots of watchful stillness, and perked ears, and low growling with the occasional "hey, boss?" woof. I take it seriously, because when it comes to guarding me, Riley is very good at her job.
Being me - thus, completely fearless when I should be spooked, and terrified of useless things - I snagged one of the big boat flashlights, poked my head out the front door, and had a look. I couldn't see anything, but I could hear it. Scuffle. Scuffle-shift-quiet-slide-quiet-quiet-quiet-scoot. Indi the Stupidly Fearless told the darkness, "I can't see you, but I can hear you."
Then I went inside, thought for a moment, snagged Riley by the collar, and called the police. I was very apologetic and sort of embarrassed - "yeah, uh, the house next door was broken into last night, and my dog's pretty good about letting me know when something's up, but I don't know if there's really anything to worry about there, I didn't see anything or anyone but I heard something" - and the dispatcher assured me that I'd done the right thing and cops would be by shortly.
I put Riley's leash on and we both resumed our spots on the couch - me a bit tense, Riley at-ease but alert. Before too long she started up the alarm growling and I saw flashlight beams bouncing around in the darkness. A cop knocked on the door. I manhandled Riley out of the room, then opened the door.
"I hear y'got a prowler," a cop said. I couldn't see him, with the lack of a porchlight and the bouncing flashlight beams.
"Heard something," I said. "I didn't see it."
"Well," the cop said, swinging the flashlight beam across the yard, "there's yer suspect."
And there it was: a big full-grown armadillo, all pale and hairless, blinking stupidly in the blue-white light.
I couldn't help it. I started laughing. I giggled my way through apologizing and oh my god and I am such an idiot and my dog is such an idiot and really jesus I'm sorry, this is so stupid.
"That's all right ma'am," the cop said to me, "but I'm not gettin' anywhere near it." Which just made me laugh more. So I thanked them and said goodnight.
Once Riley was released back into the rest of the house, she growled a bit more because the Suspect Dillo was still out there, sticking its snout into ants' nests and eating small frogs. THOSE ARE RILEY'S INSECTS, DAMN IT.
At least it wasn't an alligator.
(I've noticed, lately, that I'm getting a lot of "Ma'am" from people. I am not sure how I feel about this. I'm not yet old enough to really enjoy my age, and while I can't wait to get there, I am also doing the typical female thing and clinging in confusion to my fading youth. But anyway.)
I had not heard anything, though I'd got home around midnight or one, which was a damned nuisance since the porch light had gone out and I haven't gone to the shop to get more bulbs. Then I spent another few hours failing at falling asleep, watching a movie while curled up with/on/under Riley in bed. Riley hadn't made a sound to indicate anything was amiss. Though in Riley's defense, the comings and goings of homo sapiens next door are none of her concern. She probably noticed, but didn't see fit to raise the alarm.
Last night, about two in the morning, I was living the wild life - curled up on the couch with the dog, watching Dr. Who. I was watching the tv, that is; she was getting her ears scratched. Then she hauled herself upright, putting an elbow into my spleen, raised her hackles, and let me know that something was not right. This was the alert/warning noise, not the LOL I LIKE TO BARK AT SKWIRLS noise. There is a big difference. Her alert involves lots of watchful stillness, and perked ears, and low growling with the occasional "hey, boss?" woof. I take it seriously, because when it comes to guarding me, Riley is very good at her job.
Being me - thus, completely fearless when I should be spooked, and terrified of useless things - I snagged one of the big boat flashlights, poked my head out the front door, and had a look. I couldn't see anything, but I could hear it. Scuffle. Scuffle-shift-quiet-slide-quiet-quiet-quiet-scoot. Indi the Stupidly Fearless told the darkness, "I can't see you, but I can hear you."
Then I went inside, thought for a moment, snagged Riley by the collar, and called the police. I was very apologetic and sort of embarrassed - "yeah, uh, the house next door was broken into last night, and my dog's pretty good about letting me know when something's up, but I don't know if there's really anything to worry about there, I didn't see anything or anyone but I heard something" - and the dispatcher assured me that I'd done the right thing and cops would be by shortly.
I put Riley's leash on and we both resumed our spots on the couch - me a bit tense, Riley at-ease but alert. Before too long she started up the alarm growling and I saw flashlight beams bouncing around in the darkness. A cop knocked on the door. I manhandled Riley out of the room, then opened the door.
"I hear y'got a prowler," a cop said. I couldn't see him, with the lack of a porchlight and the bouncing flashlight beams.
"Heard something," I said. "I didn't see it."
"Well," the cop said, swinging the flashlight beam across the yard, "there's yer suspect."
And there it was: a big full-grown armadillo, all pale and hairless, blinking stupidly in the blue-white light.
I couldn't help it. I started laughing. I giggled my way through apologizing and oh my god and I am such an idiot and my dog is such an idiot and really jesus I'm sorry, this is so stupid.
"That's all right ma'am," the cop said to me, "but I'm not gettin' anywhere near it." Which just made me laugh more. So I thanked them and said goodnight.
Once Riley was released back into the rest of the house, she growled a bit more because the Suspect Dillo was still out there, sticking its snout into ants' nests and eating small frogs. THOSE ARE RILEY'S INSECTS, DAMN IT.
At least it wasn't an alligator.