I miss my deceased Rottweilers, Elsa and Udo, who both passed into guard-dog eternity nine years ago and are buried across the creek. Especially after last night.
Udo looked as if a cast-iron skillet had hit him squarely in the face. Over 120 pounds,his broad black forehead, dark skeptical eyes, and vice-grip jaw enabled him to just look at people peering into our property, gawking or spying, and create quite an impression. Most did not linger.
He was my protector at night when I was alone. Like a stealth black doormat, he slept and guarded our front door and me, his Alpha.
Elsa, too, was a guard dog for the ages. Flawed, with long hair and a disfiguring under-bite, she was perhaps the most focused dog I have ever owned.
Elsa and Udo are just memories, replaced by my sweet Labrador who does bark, but whose lovely blond face and wagging tale, like a rudder, are far from intimidating. My alarm system is now my warning dog.
I will give the Lab credit last night, for when she heard a car idling on the road by our property, she launched into a protective deep-throated growl which developed into rapid-fire barking.
For my part, alone, as my husband was out-of-town, I must commend myself for keeping my wits. Listening to my husband’s long-distance directions, I loaded my 38 caliber hand gun, my father’s, with six bullets. I only wish I had thought to step outside, yell at the gate invaders, and shoot into the night sky. That would have been a deterrent. I also wish I had been fully comfortable with my 9mm Beretta automatic hand gun. That will be my May goal.
I turned on the outside spot lights at my husband’s suggestion, on his cell phone far away, angry at the circumstances and feeling helpless to do anything.
I had no idea what “gate tamper” meant when my phone began chirping as if I had a gate visitor. No gate visitor in the black of night. Just a gate tamperer. Two tamperers, intent on opening our gate, I am sure, to burglarize a house they thought was vacant.
Fully armed, I called 911.
Two of America’s finest arrived to assess the circumstances (and they were cute, as my mother would say…)
Let’s hope that our video camera, which the dumb-asses did not see hidden in the sycamore tree, yields good evidence. I already know the make of the car.
It’s important to have a plan for circumstances like this. Do you?