My sister asked me to check on her puppies while her family went out of town one evening. She gave me the key to her house and was all, “just come by sometime tonight and make sure they have water and food”.
Oh and, “the lock on the door is really stubborn so you need to jiggle and shake it to open it…”
At 17 years old I was practically a professional house/pet/baby sitter so this little task was easy enough, but that didn’t stop me from completely forgetting to do it until 10pm. “Oh crap! I was supposed to check on my sister’s dogs tonight…you wanna come with me?” And with that my friend and I drove the three blocks to her house and I began the process of rattling and shaking her front door in order to get it unlocked.
It was pitch black dark so it took me some time to register the man standing at the end of the entryway with a GUN at my face. “Oh my God, GREG! It’s ME!! I’m checking on the dogs!” And with that the gun quickly went down and my brother in law disappeared, I’m assuming to put the gun away. My friend and I stayed for a moment to explain what we were doing there. Greg did not know we had been instructed to come over and I did not know that Greg had decided to stay home. He thought I was an intruder.
I will never know how close he was to pulling the trigger on that thing. To me, he looked a little rattled…although that could be the adrenaline rush from waking up to your door being opened by an intruder. He says he wasn’t close at all and I’m so relieved he was responsible enough with his weapon to not just impulsively shoot the first sign of intrusion, because instead of reading this post about guns in homes you’d be reading an entirely different post titled “I Can’t Post Now Because I’m DEAD”.
So when one of my Mommalogues questions this week asked how I felt about guns in the home, I had a very clear, somewhat playful answer prepared for them:
What do you think? Wouldn’t you rather have a really adorably-vicious looking Rottweiler than wield a firearm?