It Was A Dark and Stormy Night When My Dog Saved My Life

Here's the post about the attempted break-in.

It was about three or four years ago in December. It was very cold and raining. Back then I still had my really sucky, stressful Quality Control job so all I did each night was eat and go to bed.
So it was about 8:45 when I heard my dog making a god-awful sound.

I never heard her make a sound like that before and I haven't heard her do it since. I can't really describe it except to say it sounded like a growl from the hounds of hell.

Not comprehending the situation, I got up and went check on her. When I reached my living room someone rattled the door knob.

To this day I still don't understand that night. A sensible person would have gone back and got a gun or the phone. I walked into the kitchen looking for my dog.

She was standing in front of the window and all her fur was raised. Her teeth were bared. She was growling fiercely.

Not thinking at all, I walked up to the window.

When I stepped in front of the window, a man jumped off the porch.. Finally I was scared. Somebody was on the porch!

It freaked me out. My heart pounded and I started to sweat and shake. I was so scared. I called 911.

It took the sheriff's department FORTY-FIVE minutes to show up and I live 15 minutes away from the police station.

When the cops did get here they didn't do anything. One of them stood by the car and the other one stood on the porch and talked to me. I told him how the dog alerted me and I was trying to give him as many details as I could, which wasn't much. I said it was a white man and he was wearing a t-shirt. "What color was the shirt?" I looked at the cop blankly. He shone his flashlight around the edge of the porch and said that if anyone came back to sic my dog on 'em. Then they left.

I couldn't sleep at all. I got the shotgun and sat up in the sewing room for most of the night. From my vantage point I could watch the window, the backdoor, and the hallway. I sat up and watched and petted my dog and told her she was a good girl. Maybe even the very best girl in the whole world.

As I sat there holding my gun and I realized the shirt had been light gray. He was wearing jeans. He had white tennis shoes because I saw his feet. He had short hair. He had a bread. And the thing I thought about over and over was that he was wearing a t-shirt. In the rain. In the cold.

I think he must live close by. How else could he stand to be in cold with no jacket? He could have been dropped off, but he ran around away from the road, toward the woods. Who knows the woods? Why D of course, that was his escape route every time the cops tried to pick him up for spousal abuse.