As you may know already , our house was robbed recently. Someone kicked in the side door, destroying the deadbolt, door, and frame. Beyond the destruction in the kitchen, the bedroom took the worst of the attack. The thug(s) ransacked Merri’s dresser, taking jewelry that was primarily of sentimental value. Sloppily, they left one earring each from several pairs. The bed was shoved aside to access an almost empty nightstand. A fanny pack in Mer’s closet was examined. It appears the thief/thieves broke into Merri’s locked office but touched nothing. It’s not clear they made it to my office. Someone methodically removed everything from the glovebox in the truck in the garage and opened both wardrobes. In the end, the most valuable object they took was a relatively new 19” TV and remote from the kitchen (<$200). In the process, they unplugged the stove, freezing its clock at 7:20, either Friday evening, 9/11, or Saturday morning, 9/12. Both times are still in daylight. Coming or going, the crook(s) left the front gate open (not all of the turtles are accounted for) and destroyed a section of the back fence for access to the church parking lot, which is visible from Indian School and the YMCA parking lot.

Because our neighbor checked the house around 7:25am Sat, there is a real possibility he interrupted the robbery. We’re glad he didn’t actually encounter these worthless vermin.

Lucky’s memorial is just outside that kitchen door, in the spot he occupied his last months and moments. If his spirit hasn’t moved on, he was beside himself over his inability to protect us this last time.

In the days since, we have cleaned up. There is a temporary heavy-duty bolt on the shattered door plus an alarm that shrieks at the slightest touch. We’ve ordered wrought iron security doors. We leave and return to the house with great trepidation. We’ve learned that many other houses in our neighborhood have been hit in recent weeks. The filthy scum will move on soon to terrorize another neighborhood. When I meet them in Hell, I will drive deadbolts through their eye sockets.

I think life is best lived without keeping score. If one insists on tracking ups and downs, then it is wise to recall some people have things unimaginably worse. But, detached philosophy aside, this has been a lousy summer: car totaled, dog dead, home invaded. Granted, Merri wasn’t hurt much in the wreck; we had 11 great years with Lucky; and the stupid thieves wasted their time shattering 22 years of peace and security for chump-change. Life goes on.

Four weeks ago today, Lucky died. We think of him every day and miss him dearly. I dreamed about him for the first time a couple of nights ago. He was looking up at me and I called to Merri, “Lucky’s here!” As I looked up, I could see into another room and saw another Lucky. From a third room, Merri replied, “He’s in here, too!” Read in this what you will.