The Prowler

 

It was just after 1:30 in the morning when the dogs began to bark frantically and throw their small bodies against the window. Not sure what the problem was, I came awake slowly and it took a few seconds to realize that the front porch security light had come on. I was thinking stray cat or maybe a hungry raccoon when the pounding started and I understood that this was human noise and not wildlife.

“LET ME IN!” a male voice was yelling urgently, “PLEASE LET ME IN! SOMEONE’S SHOOTING AT ME!”

More fists against the door, the dogs going wild, but no gunfire. I couldn’t see anyone from the window and going to the door was out of the question but I could hear him, alternately yelling and talking to himself, and relentlessly pounding on the door.

“GO AWAY!” I shouted, “I’M CALLING THE POLICE!”

“LET ME IN!” he repeated over and over again, “IT’S NOT SAFE HERE!”

I found my phone and dialed 911, was more or less instantly connected with a police dispatcher who calmly told me to make sure my doors were locked, asked if I was armed, and reassured me that officers were on the way. She would stay on the line with me until they arrived, she said and very gently told me that she knew it seemed like forever but it had actually only been 4 minutes, and just then a pair of police cars pulled up. Even as the officers approached the house, my prowler continued banging on the door and ranting wildly, but thoughtfully stayed right in the center of the security light until the police escorted him off the porch, into handcuffs, and then into the back of the first patrol car.

The dogs were still in a frenzy over all this commotion but I managed to calm them after several minutes and only then did I let myself think about how terrified I’d been. A sudden and almost paralyzing attack of the what if’s soon followed – what if the door had given way, what if he’d had a gun, what if the dogs hadn’t heard him, what if someone actually had been shooting at him and he wasn’t some wild eyed, delusional meth addict having some kind of psychotic episode. One of the officers knocked at the door to make sure I was okay and I quickly realized that all the what ifs didn’t bear thinking about. I let the dogs out briefly, gave them each an extra biscuit, and crawled back into my nest in the love seat and hoped for sleep.

It was, I admit, a long night but morning came as mornings do and life went on. All that was left was the uneasy but faint under taste of my home almost being violated. And I feel like even that will pass.

There is, however, still a melancholy longing for a time when life was simpler, saner, and safer. I fear it will never come again.