[Dailydrool] Young Charlie's very important New Year's Day job

[Elizabeth Lindsey]

Continued.....

I'm assuming no one here knows my sister Rebecca, and I'm almost  
positive she's not on the Drool, though she is on Facebook. The thing  
is, my sister isn't supposed to know about what Ken, young Charlie,  
and I found when we got to my mother's house, at least not until my  
mother gets up the courage to tell her. My sister has long been  
unhappy about our mother buying into this neighborhood, even though  
it puts our mother so conveniently close to us and comes with  
wonderful neighbors in every house on the block. My sister feels the  
area has too much crime, though I believe it has no more than  
anywhere else. So, if you can't keep a secret from my sister or  
refrain from writing about this on Facebook, you best not read any  
further. Otherwise I'll be in deep, serious trouble. I'm not kidding.  
My sister would flay me alive if she found out. But it makes for a  
story that's simply too good not to be told, so here it goes.  
Remember, I'm trusting you guys.

What we found when we got to my mother's was that she'd just been  
visited by three burglars while she was home. They came in through a  
back window after first ringing the doorbell and not getting any  
answer. Fortunately my mother wasn't hurt, but she and the burglars  
all shared a big "Oh, S**T!!!" moment when they each realized the  
other was there in the house. I can only imagine the cold feeling of  
dread that came over the burglar who was going through a drawer  
downstairs when he heard my mother flush the toilet right by his ear  
on the other side of the wall. My mother told the police that the  
feeling that washed over her was one of great anger. Apparently she  
burst out of the bathroom, saw her uninvited visitors, and said  
something to the effect of, "What the hell are you doing in here? Get  
out! Get out now!"

That was exactly what the burglars wanted to do, but the one out in  
front was having trouble with the lock on the back door. By the time  
he finally got it open, my mother was over there with him, in her  
pink flannel nightgown and in his face. She was so furious that she  
reached out and grabbed the front of his clothing the way you would a  
naughty child's. Later she told the police that it was just as well  
he had wrenched himself free because she didn't know what she would  
have done with him had she managed to hold onto him. The other two  
burglars ran up behind her and pushed her back against her recycling  
bins and into the wall in their haste to get out the door. All three  
sped through the back yard, jumped the fence, crossed the alley, and  
headed toward the public housing area across the street.

The police told my mother that statistics show that a burglar returns  
40 percent of the time. They think it's because the burglar's had a  
chance to see what all is there to be taken and has a feel for the  
layout of the house. So, in a gesture of closing the barn door  
*after* the horse has escaped, Ken secured all the windows with nails  
that very night. If anyone wants in now, they'll have to take the  
whole window frame out, which has happened in a few of the  
burglaries. But at least the person doing it will have to work a  
whole lot harder at it now. Funny, but I'd been talking to my mother  
just two days earlier about securing those windows, but she hadn't  
wanted to damage the paint work to do it. She felt differently about  
that after meeting her burglars.

What does one do to try to begin to help someone get over the  
violation of a home burglary? One offers to stay the night, for weeks  
on end if necessary. I did, but my mother said she'd much rather have  
Charlie stay with her, and Ken and I could go on home. She said it's  
because young Charlie's bark sounds like a bigger dog's than  
Elsinore's, but I think it's because Charlie's a better snuggler, and  
my mother wanted him to sleep on the bed with her. Charlie's never  
stayed overnight with my mother, either with Elsinore or by himself.  
They usually go over together for daylong visits several times a week  
but never for overnights. I wasn't sure how he'd do (Ken calls him  
Mama's Boy, and not as a compliment), but I explained to Charlie that  
he was being given a very important job and I knew he could do it. I  
was relieved to see he wasn't too concerned about us leaving him  
there that night, and Elsinore seemed to be fine with Charlie not  
being home with us that night.

My mother reported the next day that she and Charlie had slept all  
morning without wanting to get up to go out or have breakfast, and,  
disappointingly, Charlie had chosen to sleep on his own bed instead  
of hers. But later in the day he did decide to use the step stool to  
get up onto her bed to nap next to her. The burglars have yet to  
return, and my mother has decided she's fine at night without the  
dogs. She's keeping the alarm on most of the time now, not just at  
night. She remains amazingly unshaken by the experience.

So that was young Charlie's New Year's Day weekend: fighting off a  
chiropractic adjustment and providing in-home security services to a  
plucky old lady. Those of you out there who think you might try it-- 
don't mess with my mom or my bassets. They'll get you!

And don't let on to my sister or mother that I've written this, or  
they'll get me, too!

Elizabeth
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