J recently had a break-in to her apartment. Thankfully, she wasn't there when it happened, but good lord that's freaky. Someone else. In your home. Taking your stuff. I kind of wanted to move her into my second bedroom for a while, but anyone who knows her knows that the offer would be met with a genuine smile and a "no thanks, you're being insane" eye roll.
Even though I've been locking all the doors I can possibly find ever since I heard this news, I don't think anyone would have an easy time getting into my particular apartment because of my gigantic dog...
As much of a lover as he is, he sounds like he could do some serious damage to your bones if he hears you outside.
Like my own little murdering alarm system.
But I realized something this morning.
If we ever buy a house -- like, with more than one story -- he'd let anyone in, as long as they break into a floor that he is not on.
Burglars above us, on the roof? "No biggie," he'd think.
Thieves below us, in the basement? "They probably belong there."
Roly-poly kleptos stealing all the food from the kitchen (while Roc rests in MY bed upstairs)? "I wonder if they'll drop anything for me..."
(Yet another reason not to buy a single-family place.)
Anyway, stay safe out there, people. Lock your doors, lock your windows and let me know if you ever need to borrow The Roc.