What I Ought

It was a clear case of "I ought"

Seeing the open back door to my neighbors house next to us I mean; I ought to do something.  My wife had mentioned it being open to me, being as she is ever observant to changes going on around us, it is her talent.

Me, I wait until the elephant wearing a tutu has burst into flames before I mention something odd is going on; not that I was totally oblivious this time.

So when she told me their back door was left open, I sauntered out into our yard examining the flora and looking in the general direction of the house; smooth huh? Yet, I suspect the binoculars around my neck totally gave my stealth away, I don't know, I'm still chewing on that notion.

But I did see the back door was in fact, open. I started making mental list of why that might be.

   "They could have moved out and just didn't give a crap about leaving things closed"

Counter voice:  "Yeah, but look, the garden hose is still there and the garbage can is still there"

Counter-counter-voice:  "Just because people leave yard stuff doesn't mean they haven't dashed"

Counter voice: "Well then get closer and see if you can look into the open house"

Wife: "Who the HELL are you talking to?"

Ahem

   So I walked up to the deck and sure enough, it's darker than any hole in Calcutta could be. Why Calcutta is the standard for dark holes I couldn't tell ya.  But I couldn’t see a thing.  I was persuaded to go around the house and knock on the front door. My wife wanted to know what I was doing every step I took past the deck.

"I'm going to knock on the door" I told her.

"Look in the garage first, to see if there’s a car" (this she loudly whispered from her safe distance behind the stacked sand bags she hastily constructed on the knoll of our yard; she's so cute that way…industry mixed with paranoia.)

   So I followed the sagely advice and looked into the garage door windows.  There wasn't a car, but there was stuff that people might leave in hast, you know; home gym crap, large plastic container, grandma. Well, no not grandma.  I knocked on the door, then rang the bell, then tossed a few softball size stones against the door, you know the usual subtle things. Nada.  So we called the police, explained that I THOUGHT there was a break in. Was questioned about the address, and then who did I think I was to be a conscious citizen, and was I brewing Meth and trying to throw their undercover agents off the tracks? The usual....not really, but this story has no redeeming drama so I wanted to surprise you the reader so maybe you'd feel you've invested time into a worthy endeavor. Forget it, this is going nowhere fast.  The police responded rather quickly and after ringing the door bell, I opened our door and greeted the officer. He had been dispatched to investigate a break in at our address. (Love clear directions don't you?) I set him straight, he went next door to take a look.  I asked him if he wanted me to wait outside with my baseball bat toting wife?  You know in case he needed help? He eyeballed my wife with her white knuckled grip on the bat and wisely declined the offer.  I shooed my wife back into the garage, to put away the weapon,  and to start dismantling the bunker before the homeowners association came by and cited us for violating the covenants (again).  We found out bunkers in the front yard were on the official can't build list...who'd a thunk?

   Anyway, three cruisers and SWAT team later the city's finest approached the house in the usual oblique manner. Bum rush ever entrance and crash through any window that were NOT opened.

OK...reality check...there were three cruisers, and they were so polite to let the female cop stand in the front yard waiting for the flushed prey to cross her path where she and my wife could beat the crap out of any perpetrator....yes, my wife had crept back with her blunt object of authority.

   But the SWAT team wasn't dispatched, the Dunkin Donut's shop down the street had just put out a fresh batch, and for some inexplicable reason no one would respond to repeated radio request. Go fig.

My wife had that "I have a great idea" look flash across her fact, dropped her Louisville slugger, and sprinted up our front door steps then into the house. Seeing this, I readily followed.  Besides, the view from the knoll didn't afford me a good position to watch anything except the bored female cop digging in her ear for a last dollop of ear wax. Since I was last into the house I didn't know where my wife had gone, so I called out to her. I heard her muffled reply, and what followed was a short version of playing Marco Polo. I found her in the laundry room peeking out the blinds. I joined her and we could watch the flashlight beams dart about next door, just like in the movies. I said so, and she shushed me, as if they could hear. Then she scolded me for putting my fingers on the blind, thinking that the cops inside another house, in the dark, would notice such a thing...hey, they're guys they need burning elephants to grab their attention.

It was a swell exciting show...but nothing else happened.

They came by our house when they finished their ‘investigation’ and told us that it didn't look like anything was taken.  The door was indeed kicked in, but they figured the alarm scared the burglar away...it sure annoyed them; that or they were pissed off that instead of joining the SWAT team with the fresh baked do nuts they had to search out a dark house with an alarm screaming in their ears.

And that's my story and I'm sticking to it.