Yesterday was not a good day, internet friends. I came home from work to find 3 police officers on my porch and the front door wide open. My first thought was that something had happened to the dogs. As I raced up the porch steps, Dex came waddling out of the front door. Before they could get a word out, I asked the officers if there was another dog here. They told me they had put Ernie in the spare room because they weren’t sure how friendly he was.
The police officers said that they had received a call from a neighbor that my front door was wide open. When they arrived, both dogs were in the house, and nothing seemed amiss (other than the cushions being off the couch, but the dogs do that all the time). Either I didn’t close the door all the way when I left in the morning, or someone came in to the house and the dogs scared him off. I’m 99% sure I locked the lock on the doorknob, but I know I didn’t deadbolt it. The officers walked through the house with me, checking behind every door, in every closet, and under the beds. Once I was satisfied nobody was there and nothing was missing, I packed up the dogs and went to a friend’s house.
During the whole ordeal, I was mainly upset that something could have happened to the dogs. I’m surprised they both stayed in the house (which is not to say they didn’t go roaming and come back, but it was a little chilly yesterday). They could have been hurt–shot or kicked by some desperate drug addict. I thought back to the guy who cut my grass a couple of weeks ago. What if they had tried to attack the police officers as they came in the house? I wouldn’t blame them if they did, but others might not have been so understanding.
It’s got me really shaken up today; I didn’t sleep very well last night and I’m dragging ass today at work. I just want to curl up with a mug of hot chocolate in the middle of an Ernie and Dexter sandwich. I’m proud of the boys for being so good and staying close to home, but I feel like I’ve let them down by not keeping them safe.