To Catch a Predator

Last week, Bela sniffed out some illegal activity. She alerted me to the presence of a guy outside our building long before I was aware he was there. (She didn't bark; she doesn't 'do' barking. She simply stared at the door like a psycho, until I realized something had put her at unease.) Turns out, this guy was part of a larger group of guys that were casing the joint. Casing. That sounds very CSI of me to put it that way, but that is just the way it was.

As Bela and I made our way past the culprit, I gave him a cheerful hello, and she looked up at him, tail wagging, eager to make another friend. Yes, in terms of being a deterrant, we're screwed. We are together - the single most inviting pair of tenants a buglar could hope for. I practically asked the guy if he'd like to grab a drink, and I think I saw her actually slip him her phone number when I looked away.

This particular hoodlum slinked off into the night, as I had failed to put 2 + 2 together at that point. A buddy of his returned the following night; and a couple nights later they broke into my downstair's neighbor's apartment.

Now, I don't know if dudes like these return to the scene of a crime. I only know that they have pegged me and my neighbors as single lady dwellers that are often out and about and that they have had massive success in the hood. (They got a friend of mine down the block, as well as many other homes in the vicinity.)

If they were to attempt a breaking and entering while I were in the home, I can only imagine the scene. I would likely usher them in and just ask that they not take any good books I still want to read. Bela would wait for them to pet her, while they carried out any pricey items. (It would be over fairly quick, as I own virtually nothing of value.)

I have thought to take things a step further. I considered just taking my t.v. out and leaving it in front of my apartment door. That way, if they get into the outside door of the building - they can just grab that flat screen and be on their way. I realize, however, that they may not 'get it'. Like, they may not realize I set it there to just save them the hassle (me the horror) of them entering my actual apartment. So I think I would leave a note.

We, the housemates, are concerened. Taking extra safety meausres. There are the easier ones, like leaving lights on. We can all do that. We've been trying to think outside of the box, too. A friend and I entertained recording her husband's voice and playing it back from the window. (Home Alone may have helped out with this idea.) My coworkers asked if I could install a fake dog bark apparatus by the door. And the answer, I suppose - is, yes, I certainly could. But I'm pretty sure the fake bark apparatus target market is NON-DOG OWNERS.

For now, both Bela and I are on high alert. I'm going to trust that what we lack for in intimidation, we can make up for in attentiveness.

The Lost Toys

Olivia visited Bela and me last weekend. As she always does, when she unpacks her bags, she took out the various stuffed animals she brought along and placed them around my apartment, high up, out of Bela's mouthreach. There was a unicorn on top of the fridge, a dalmation on my desk, and a bird on the bookshelf.

Long story short, Olivia headed back to Springfield without the bird. And I didn't miss a beat. I didn't even consider sending that bird back to her.The minute I found it, I threw it to Bela. It's such a cool toy! It sings when you press it's belly! Olivia will never know, I told myself. (I called her about 2 hrs. later to confess. The sound of its graceful voice urged me to divulge the truth.)

So far, the bird is doing well in Bela's possession. It is spit-stained, and a little worn, but still sings like fowl it was meant to imitate. Soon, though, the pitch will go. Then the song altogether. And then it will lose its one upright feather.

The sheer number of toys Bela has ruined is astounding. On one hand, thinking about it conjures up heartbreaking images of dollar signs floating by or being flushed down the toilet. On the other hand, it's almost impressive; how many creatures she has taken down.

For a while, I was saving the abused toys and passing them onto my mother for sewing. This was just a means of putting off the inevitable. It was life support for the dearly departed. If she can get through them fresh off the assembly line, a little bit of reinforced thread isn't going to keep her teeth at bay. I experimented with duct tape as well. A makeshift surgeon, closing a mouth here, an armpit there.

Now because I am aware of her prowess, I know to be thrifty with the toys. Expensive toys with marketing mesaures like 'indestructable' mean nothing to me. Indestructable? Maybe for a teacup chihuahua.

But there once was this sheep. She had seen it on the way out of a dog store one day. She grabbed it off the rack with her mouth. I took at look at the price tag. $18, I scoffed!!?? How could they even think that it would be purchased at that price?? Dream on, B!, I told her, as I put the sheep back on the shelf.

But the next week, she saw it again. And the week after that. And as we came upon the month's end, I put my need for toiletries on hold and bought the damn sheep. Sure enough, it was good buy. She LOVED it. I couldn't bring it out without her going crazy. I actually didn't even have to act that interested. I can't explain the how or the why, but that sheep deemed itself worth the exorbitant eighteen-dollar price tag.

The sheep was shoddily made, however. Said sheep now sits in 6 different pieces in her toy cabinet. The ears. The muzzle. The middle. The legs. And in the various stages of sheeps's destruction, she ingested a bit of stuffing, which is super dangerous. (I had to hear only one stuffing horror story for me to fear it for all time.)

So when I leave, I pick up any toys and hide them in her cabinets. Someone asked me one day, "Why can't she have any toys out while you're gone?" I looked at her with disgust and retorted, "Well, why shouldn't I leave a deathly substance around for her to chew...mhmmm??" "Maybe I should sprinkle some rat poison around the house too, huh? That way she has something to snack on while I'm gone."

The truth is, if I left them out, she wouldn't play with them anyway. This dog will only play if YOU act interested in playing. And not mildly interested. More like...you would rather do nothing else in the world. I have to do a lot of eyebrow-raising, fakeouts, hooting & hollering to get her engaged. I am not allowed to be in a reclined position - it reeks of disinterest. This reminds me of babysitting. No matter how much I like the kid with which I am interacting, I could care less about this lego train and the direction it runs or these Polly Pockets and their agendas. But for the love of the game, I can pretend that I do.