Be Happy, Take Precautions, But Don't Worry

The other evening Gregoire and I were leaving our house to go out for dinner. Standing or should I say, lurking, at the end of our back alley was a man. He could not have looked more suspicious if he'd tattooed "UP TO NO GOOD" on his forehead. He was in his late twenties, dressed in scruffy dark pants and a jacket, with a black hood covering his head. He was trying to conceal his face. On top of that, he was shifting from side to side, had a brooding appearance and would not look us in the eye. He seemed to be waiting for something but it wasn't clear what.

With Son of Sam loitering about, I felt uncomfortable just driving off. I had visions of coming back to a home with smashed windows and our things strewn around the house. For sure, he was going to swipe our prized Haagen-Dazs chocolate icecream from the fridge.

Gregoire said, "What can you do about it anyway? It is not a crime to look shifty." OK but I think its an offence to loiter in alleys behind houses but I'm not sure if the police would come if we called them. We drove off anyway.

For the first part of dinner, I was nervously toying with my food, thinking about someone rummidging through our possessions at home. Then I decided that I'm being judgemental based on someone's appearance, and I was rushing to unwarranted conclusions. I dug into my lamb souvlaki with gusto and forgot about the potential Law and Order episode being played out for real on our street.

We finished dinner and returned home. Son of Sam was gone. Our house was fine, no signs of a break-in. All was quiet.

We live in a neighbourhood that for the most part is ok, but we do occasionally see drug dealers on the corner down the street. They arrive in expensive looking cars, do quick exchanges through the car window and equally as quickly, drive off. A neighbour writes down the license plate numbers of these vehicles when he sees them and gives them to the cops. We see drug addicts waiting for a hit. We see people hanging out around the blog train station whose appearance and shifty demeanour make you feel uncomfortable. Sometimes somebody comes down the alley who is definitely not on our Christmas card list.

We've had one incident in three years where someone broke into our home and stole some petty cash. After that I wanted to put up electric fences and install ballistic missiles to protect ourselves but the feeling gradually went away. The thing is you can't spend your life worrying as to whether they will rob you or murder you in your bed. We may get burgled again at some point and there is a remote chance we might get harmed. We take reasonable precautions to make our property secure and keep ourselves safe from harm. It is not worth losing sleep over a crime that may not happen.

Anyone else got thoughts on this?

A sheep with a one track mind...

Doppleganger Ursula wrote to say that a sheep had been visiting their garden each morning and helping itself to the finest and most expensive plants in the place. Their garden is supposedly secure as it is surrounded by high stone walls and fences in most parts, but a sheep can jump six feet on to the wall no problem, then it drops down into the yard. Once it has found a flower bed of choice, it can't help returning. Its as if they are programmed to do it. Problem is, once sheep are in the garden, they have trouble getting out.

Ursula and her husband have been chasing the darned creature out of the garden for two weeks now. The garden is full of droppings and a lot of their prized plants have been destroyed. Yesterday in despair she approached the farmer who sold them manure and told him of her plight. He was most sympathetic and eager to help. He asked her to describe the sheep and the markings and immediately said it wasn't one of his. He said he would come over and look at it, but he suspected it was Farmer B's from down the lane. Ursula said she had just shooed the sheep out so it was gone now. Anyway next time it appeared, she was to call immediately and Farmer B would be over in a jiffy.

A few hours later there was the sheep again, chomping away in their garden. Once called, Farmer B came whizzbang with two sheep dogs, a small tractor and a farm hand. Sure enough, it was one of his sheep. Well catching the sheep was not easy at all. It ran round the house four times and nearly flattened Ursula's husband in its frantic attempts to avoid capture. It went to the four corners of the property, chased by the dogs, with farmer whistling and yelling strange commands that appeared to confuse the dogs no end. They'd not seen such grand entertainment in their garden for many a long year.

Eventually the sheep was cornered. Farmer B said it was a ewe in lamb, and once the lamb was born it wouldn't bother climbing walls to get into their garden. He said he would put the sheep in "a secluded spot", whatever that meant. And if it came back, it would be put in an even more secluded spot. I have images of pens with sheep in leg irons, but hopefully it won't get that draconian. Farmer B said even if you took the sheep five miles away and left it out in the open, it would work its way back within a day or two.

So Ursula enjoyed the sight of the farmer driving the tiny tractor with the miscreant ewe held tightly in his lap, with one sheep dog on the hood and another behind, parading out through their garden gate with the farm hand trailing behind.

Ursula reports so far, no sight of said sheep. I suspect she would quite like it to return, as the subsequent theatrics of the farmer, tractor, dogs and all seem to be much better than anything that appears on television these days.