The other night the RLA was out with his friend, and I was home on the couch watching a very good little documentary. Around a quarter to nine, the dogs started to bark like crazy and the phone rang at the same time. I answered the phone to find The Girl Cousin calling about family business and the dogs continued to bark. I tried to shush them, but they wouldn’t be shushed. Just as I got up to smack them on their butts, I saw that the RLA was standing in front of the house, and I figured that he’d been teasing them, or talking to a neighbor before he came in and they were just idiots. It’s a reasonable conclusion… particularly with JoJo, the dog of very little brain.

Except, when I got up the next morning and went outside to get the paper, I discovered that someone had ransacked Tweety McPeeps. I never lock the car when it’s in the driveway, and besides, it’s a convertible. Locking it seems pointless and maybe even a little stupid. If someone wants into a convertible badly enough, they will just slit the roof. Why tempt fate? Don’t lock it. So no windows were smashed, no rag tops were eviscerated, but the glove box was emptied out and the contents strewn around the interior.

Someone violated Tweety, and the only thing that stopped them from doing anything more was the return home of the RLA. And yes, the gate was closed, but not locked. I love my neighborhood, but this makes me uneasy.