[Dailydrool] Our Elsinore fools the police

[Elizabeth Lindsey]

It's been a little over a week since my mother's house was burgled  
while she was in it, and she's doing just fine. Young Charlie spent  
only that one night with her, and she's been on her own ever since. I  
keep asking her if she wants one or both of the hounds to stay the  
night, but she says she's okay, and I believe her. I don't think  
she's felt shaky at all. I, however, have been subconsciously on edge  
all week, as I found out on Saturday night.

On Saturday night Ken had to be at his church for a function, and I  
went to see the new Harry Potter movie with my mother. I left before  
Ken, and I arrived home before he did. As I drove past my house to  
get to my mother's to drop her off after the movie, I saw a police  
car parked in the center turn lane sort of in front of my house. The  
officer inside the car looked as if he was doing paperwork, and my  
house looked okay from the front of the street.

I dropped my mother off and then swung into the alley between her  
block and mine. Because there's no parking on my side of the street,  
everyone on my side parks behind their houses, off the alley. As I  
pulled into the gravel parking area behind my house, I saw that the  
kitchen light was on. That wasn't right. We never leave lights on  
when we go. Ken's death on having unnecessary lights on when we're  
not home. When we are home that's another matter. Then the lights can  
be left on all over the house. But not when we're not home.

When I got to the back door, I saw that Elsinore was out of her  
crate. That, too, wasn't right. Then I unlocked the back door and  
stepped inside and heard the alarm making a strange beeping sound.  
That definitely wasn't right. I've been waiting for the burglars to  
cross the alley from my mother's street to mine. The house directly  
across the alley from us was burgled on Christmas Eve, so in my mind,  
it's only a matter of time before it's my block's turn to be hit  
multiple times.

Too many things were wrong about the scenario I was walking into, so  
I called Elsinore outside, left Charlie still in his crate in the  
back entry, ran to the car to get a spare leash for Elsinore, and  
then called 911 to ask for police to go into the house first. Then I  
stood in the backyard and felt vulnerable and twitchy, though I know  
Elsinore would go to the mat for me and take down all our opponents  
handily. By this point the house alarm was going full blast, and I  
was feeling terrible for Charlie trapped in the house with it. But I  
was too afraid to go in by myself and rescue him.

The police arrived within minutes and entered our house with guns  
drawn while Elsinore and I stayed well out of the way in the yard.  
Elsinore was feeling agitated by this point, most likely feeding on  
my agitation, and I was a bit worried because Nashville's finest have  
a tendency to shoot the family dog first and then ask questions.  
Since moving here eight years ago, I've heard news reports of three  
pets being shot by hyper-alert police officers. These guys were in  
black uniforms, and from Elsinore's perspective, they looked a lot  
like the mail carrier she's just dying to be allowed to have a go at.

When we were given the okay to go back into the house, the first  
thing I did was shut up the alarm. Then the officers and I talked  
about what might have happened. Perhaps Ken set the alarm wrong when  
he left the house? Perhaps Elsinore got out of her crate (which would  
have been a big first for her, especially since she loves her crate)?  
While we were hypothesizing, and I was apologizing profusely with a  
red face, three more officers knocked on the front door. When  
Elsinore heard that, she let out a series of loud barks and pulled on  
the leash until the officers came in. One of them looked way, way  
down at her and said in amazement, "When I came by a few minutes ago  
because the alarm company called about this house, I came to the  
front door and heard a really big dog barking inside and said 'No way  
am I going in there with a dog that big!'"

I was really pleased about that. If Elsinore can fool a seasoned  
police officer, then she can certainly fool a burglar. And what  
burglar in his right mind would want to face a big, mean-sounding dog  
like Elsinore?

I was also pleased that Elsinore let the officers pat her and they  
didn't seem to find her threatening. Perhaps she looked even smaller  
than she is (55 pounds) because she'd been so big in their  
imaginations after hearing her bark?

Then another officer pointed at my folk harp standing by the front  
door, the one that young Charlie put buppy teeth marks in (and I  
still haven't quite forgiven him for doing so), and asked if he could  
run his finger over the strings. I said of course, because harps love  
to be played. He ran a finger down the strings and smiled happily at  
the sound. The officer next to him said, "I guess we can go, now that  
you've had a chance to do that?" And so they left with my embarrassed  
apologies for the false alarm. I think they understood my  
twitchiness. I think they're just as much on edge with these  
burglaries as we are, only we don't want to run into the burglars and  
they keep hoping they will.

Then Ken got home and told me that, because of the burglaries, he'd  
decided to leave the kitchen light on to make the house look more  
like we were home. He also thinks he didn't latch Elsinore's crate  
right. He reminded me that it's usually me who gets the dogs and  
house ready to be left, and he was anxious about getting to the bus  
stop on time.

I hadn't realized until Saturday night just how shaken I've been by  
my mother's burglary. But I reminding myself that I have our  
Elsinore, and she's better than a loaded gun. She has good guard dog  
instincts on her property, and I trust her implicitly with my safety.  
Young Charlie, well, he might follow Elsinore's lead but then again  
he might also ask the wrong person to play with one of his toys with  
him. Elsinore, however, always has my back. I hope she knows that I  
always have hers as well.

Oh, and in case you've been wondering, my mother finally told my  
sister about the burglary, so it's okay to talk about it in front of  
her now. Thanks for keeping the secret!

Elizabeth