The Intruder

A couple of nights ago The Mr. was out of town on business.  My friend, Lissy, and I were having a girls' night in.  As we were watching a movie in the family room near the back of the house, I noticed the motion-sensor light come on in the back yard.  That crazy light always comes on whenever the neighbour's cat comes into our backyard.  My dream in life is to be able to open the patio door quietly and quickly enough to give that cat a good dousing with a giant "super soaker" before he runs away.  But I digress.......

Anyway, I ignored the light, thinking it was just the cat.  I ignored it, that is, until I heard a loud thunk against the wall around the corner of the house.  I got up, opened the patio door, and in my loudest and clearest voice, I called The Mr. by his first name and said, "Call the police.  There's someone in our backyard!"  My intention in doing that was to scare off any intruder(s) that might happen to be in the yard.  Not only would they know that we were aware of them, but they would hopefully think that there was a male present to offer a bit more of a threat.

What I didn't realize is that Lissy had gone to grab her phone and called 911.  As I listened to the one-sided conversation, and watched her closing the curtains, I decided that maybe I should take this more seriously.  Apparently the dispatcher told her, "Lock the doors and stay inside.  An officer will be there shortly."

And then the neighbours dogs started barking.

It became official -- I decided to start taking this more seriously.

By the time the officer arrived at my front door with his flashlight, we may or may not have been a little worked up.

The officer told me to meet him in the back yard.  He shone his flashlight and called out to anyone who might be hiding in bushes, sheds, or our utility trailer filled with junk waiting to be hauled to the dump.  Nothing seemed to be out of order, which didn't help to convince him that we had heard that loud thunk.  

When he shone his flashlight up to the second-story window of our playhouse, it took a little convincing for him to believe me when I told him that the dummy in the window was just a prop left over from the Western-themed backyard bbq that we'd had over a month ago.  I'm sure by this time he thought we were completely insane.  He left shortly thereafter.  I suppose I can't blame him.

But come on, a dummy in the window!?!  That's pretty funny, right?

Because it was dark outside, there is no way I could have gotten a decent picture of the dummy that night, but this is what that little scene looked like the next day in broad daylight: 

I have to admit, I'm kinda curious as to what the police report had to say.

Dixie