Lately, in and around my neighborhood, there have been several break-ins and attempted break-ins. Every time I hear of another one, my usual in-a-coma sleep pattern changes to a post-traumatic-stress sleep pattern. (You know, the kind where rain hits the window and you SPRING up ready to fight someone to the death.)
My neighbors have turned into their own crime-fighting police station. I’m not kidding when I say that if I were a burglar, I would fear them. In the past two weeks, they have chased two would-be burglars on foot. Who does that? Most people would call 911 – but the guys in my ‘hood – they will straight up come after you.
I’m not quite as brave, but I have added to my nightly routine of making sure my motion lights and security system are on. I now send William Wallace outside and ask him repeatedly, “Who is it?! Who is it?!” to make him bark his little head off. This is my version of a warning shot.
If they only knew that behind that bark is a mere 17lbs of friendly fur ball.
thetightropeblog.com 
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