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<DIV>Poor Kacy -- bravely creeping downstairs to fight off the intruder with
your cellphone, only to be met by the mournful faces of the real burglars!</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>It reminded me of the time I woke up in the middle of the night hearing a
not-so-muffled thud downstairs, then someone moving around. Yes,
definitely. I discovered what they mean when they say "my heart was in my
throat." I listened and waited, and it didn't go away. Like watching
myself in a movie, I reached for the phone and dialed 9-1-1 and whispered that
someone was in my house. "We'll be right there, ma'am, don't move."
Don't worry. It seemed to take forever. I reached over to Blueberry
for comfort, and --</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>She wasn't there.</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>She had to be there. She always spent the entire night in
one position, snuggled against me. But no, she wasn't there. In one
irrational moment, I thought the thief had stolen her.</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>Then, as the policeman pounded on the front door and I heard a
surprised arooo from the kitchen, of course I knew what was going on.</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>Sheepishly, I had to explain to the police that it wasn't a burglar, it was
a basset. She lay down on his feet, rolled over and offered the royal
tummy for worship, and he forgave her. I'm not so sure if he forgave
me.</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>Trash everywhere. Happy, burping basset.
Heart-still-galloping-like-Secretariat me.</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>Beth H. (Duchess ATB and Blueberry ATB)</DIV></FONT></BODY></HTML>