Love the wife, hate the dog

Let me preface this post by stating that I love my wife, Jenny, and that I have her permission to post about this.

It is 3:46 in the morning. I am working solo out at capstone and get a txt from Jenny asking if it is thundering. Capstone is less than 10 miles away from where we live. I was mid-sentence typing a response and the phone rings. Jenny is panicking on the other end saying that someone is moving chairs on the parch and the dog is going crazy.

Not really sure what to say or do (I can't really leave five drug recovering addicts alone in the woods) I ask if she is sure its not just trucks passing. By this time she is wondering if she should call (not the cops) Casey.

After calling Casey she calls me back. I asked her why she didn't call 911 and her response was, "well it might just be someone stealing the propane tank." That is exactly my point, I tell her. I mean, what is Casey going to do? For all we know, it is some meth cook who ran out of propane!

So, let's recap, Jenny home alone, doesn't have handgun purchased partly for such a case as this, hears commotion outside and calls Casey (not cops). I said, "maybe the dog broke off the chain." "No, absolutely not, it was someBODY," she says. By this time I am getting pretty scared myself. I really don't want to have to go to a (possibly two) funerals.

Casey drives up and you guessed it, the dog was off the chain. That is chain #4 and collar #6 that she has broken. Breck might disappear tomorrow afternoon.

Needless to say, thank you Casey, Sunday lunch is on me this week!

*In Jenny's defense, as a child, she was victim of a peeping Tom and had her window broken when sh was home alone.