Sheltered city slickers of the bigger cities might be offended by what is written here, thinking that it is the end of the world and have all sort of unfounded worries, getting themselves all flustered and causing no end of problems a thousand times worse than what is written here. Really. But that’s not my purpose in writing this account, which is just another of my FWIW “for the record” posts, you know, for the sake of a history, which can be useful. Nothing to worry about. Stop worrying! Having said that…
Laudie-dog was inside the rectory with me the other night since there might be thunder somewhere in the world and she doesn’t like thunder at all. It was getting on toward midnight and I was writing away in the front room. Of a sudden there was a solid bump on the kitchen window, sounding exactly like the side of a human fist pounding once on the window, not strongly enough to break it, but enough to get one’s attention if one happened to be at home.
Laudie-dog instantly transformed into LEO-dog. I had to let her outside so that she could anxiously patrol the perimeter, snorting the air, offering a tentative bark in this direction and that. She never barks unless there is real danger. I didn’t see anything, so I just went back in and to the other side of the rectory to go back to writing, though I remained a bit concerned about the window incident.
And then I heard some very soft human whistles, such as you might use to signal a partner in crime or to call a dog without anyone else noticing. I ignored that and went back to writing. After all, there are plenty of dogs and dog owners out at all hours of the night. It’s a little town, right?
But then Laudie-dog started to cry a bit. In all these years, she’s only done that once before that I know, when a panther was about to make a meal of her. “What’s going on?” thought I. I peered through this window and that, and then saw the cause of her terror, the biggest, strongest, meanest looking choke-chained-but-no-tag brown pit bull I’ve ever seen trying to get through the fence regardless of also seeing me. Hey, I’m not accusing anyone, but the bump on the high-as-a-man-is-tall kitchen window is inside the perimeter of the small fence in the rectory’s back yard, and the whistles were human on the side of the house, and there was a dog on the opposite side of the back of the house interested in getting in the fenced-in area where the kitchen window is, and when I went out there was rustling in the back bushes, sounding ever so much like a human being crashing through the branches trying not to be seen, but these are all just coincidences I’m sure.
But prudence is the better part of valor, so I guess I should think that the strong bump on the window was a test to see if there was a home-alarm system set up to go off with, say, any sudden vibration of the windows, and if not, to see if there was, in fact, someone home who didn’t bother to arm the alarm because of, after all, being home. If I were a thief, that’s what I would do: bump a window and wait to see what happens.
Laudie-dog through the years has literally saved me from bears and panthers and wolves and snakes and all sort of what-not that goes bump in the night, or during the day. That was not in a town, obviously. But I’ll add a human thief to the long list. I’ll have to nick-name her Laudie-dog the LEO-dog, saving me from any bad result of a test home-invasion. She got an extra dog-treat.
UPDATE: I mentioned all this to the Police the other day, saying that it’s all just coincidence, surely, but that they might want to keep it in mind if they see a pattern develop.
Also, I stopped by to see my medical provider (we used to call them doctors) to tell him that the NC-SBI and FBI CCW check is merely looking for a few checkmarks, not my entire boring medical history. When I went to open the door of his offices, the door instead opened for me. There he was with his wife receptionist and two nurses, with him exstatically greeting me, saying how cool it was to have a future CCW priest. Needless to say, he’s quite the gun fanatic. I don’t think he’ll be raising any objections. He did give me one bit of advice, however, saying to never ever but never carry with a bullet in the chamber. All he gets are cops who blow their toes off. He said you’ll always have time to rack the gun. To prove the point, he said that Mossad insists on this practice. Does he know I have some friends… Or that though I’m a Catholic priest, I’m Jewish? Or is he a Mossad, you know, cooperator? … ;-) I’m happy to have a good imagination!