rescue 911

I have an incredibly overactive imagination, but the dogs waking me up at 3 AM barking incessantly was very real. The burglars, murderers, and rapists I pictured lurking outside my house were probably not. But I as I checked each window and doorway, I had 9 and 1 dialed and my finger ready to make the emergency call. I was alone in the house, the dogs never bark unless someone is at the door, and at 20 and 13 pounds, they aren't even ankle biters. I live on a busy street with a lot of pedestrian traffic, on the ground floor, with windows low to the ground and easy to kick in. Although I know that in most cases, if someone really wants to break into your house, or hurt you, they will find a way to try, and that the odds of it happening are in my favor, I am also very aware that given where I live and that I am mostly by myself and unarmed, I feel particularly vulnerable.

Two nights later, when the dogs woke me up again just after midnight, I got up with my only weapon, my phone, in hand. My heart was pounding and as I began turning on all the lights, there was a loud crash that sounded like someone took a battering ram to the house. I immedietely dialed 911 and told the dispatcher that I thought someone tried or was trying to break into my house and told her about the crash. She asked if I saw anyone, and I told her I hadn't even left my bedroom and wasn't planning to do so by myself. She assured me that an officer was on his way. Less than two minutes later, not one, but two patrol cars and three Decatur police officers were at my house. This is typical of Decatur, even if you get pulled over, its never just by one cop. I don't think they have anything better to do. They were probably crossing their fingers that they were going to get some action at my house. As the officers went through not just our backyard but my neighbors, as well, I tried to call my upstairs neighbors, who I know were home and hadn't been asleep very long (unfortunately, I can hear pretty much everything they do upstairs). No answer. The officers finished their search, no one was to be found, no signs of forced entry. I thanked the officers, assured them I wasn't crazy, just scared, and they promised me they would keep an eye out. I realized I was probably now on their "potentially crazy" list. I went back inside, and feeling more secure, did my own search inside. I opened my roommate's door, and there I found the culprit. Her wall mounted shelves, heavy with books, had crashed to the ground.

I sat on my front porch in the sticky, now very quiet, summer night smoking a cigarette, my heart rate returning to normal, feeling a little embarassed, but also feeling alone and a little helpless. I didn't have anyone to talk to, no one to breathe a sigh of relief with. When I was awakened by the dogs and the burglar bookshelf, there was no one there to ease my mind as I pictured villains outside ready to do me harm, no one to have my back as I checked windows and doors and empty rooms, where I could have detected the burglar bookshelf without bringing in the cavalry. I always assumed that in an emergency, my neighbors are close, I know them well, certainly they would answer a call for help. It's true, I was safe, but what if I hadn't been attacked by furniture?

I am comforted that now I know that even though they probably have me on their list, I live in a place where I can use my phone as a weapon because the police get there so quickly. But even if it's not a 911 emergency (I can't say it without thinking of William Shatner), sometimes it's just nice to have someone around that wants to talk late at night. The dogs are nice, but they're not so good for conversation. Well...they can be, but then you become that girl. You know, the one on the crazy list.