Oh Horatio...save us!

When I was about six months pregnant with my first daughter (read: hormone-filled and more than a little sleep deprived!), my in-laws asked my husband and me to house sit and watch their dog while they vacationed. We gladly obliged. It was near Christmas. Their house was already decorated for the occasion and presents were under the tree.

The two of us enjoyed a nice dinner together and a few shows on the big screen TV. (That would be any TV bigger than our 13” model). Then, tired, we took the little dogs out one last time and went to bed. After a few hours, we were wakened by voices and the sound of packages being ripped apart in the living room. Our dogs were barking like crazy.

We called 911. The operator told us to stay on the line and in our room. Within two minutes, three police cars squealed up in front of the house “Rockford” style. We looked out the window to see officers approaching the house, guns drawn with their flashlights out – just like on CSI. It was really impressive and totally cool. The police helicopter arrived moments later and beamed a huge light over the area – in case the “perps” tried to escape. Meanwhile, my husband and I moved his parents’ HUGE dresser in front of the bedroom door to prevent the possibility of a hostage situation.

After a few moments, the 911 operator said the house was secure, officers were inside and that we could open our bedroom door to admit them. Of course, we had to ask them to wait a minute while we moved the giant dresser AWAY from the door! It took a lot longer to remove it than it had taken to put it there.

When we opened the door, the officers confirmed that we were safe. We went into the living room with them, where they’d discovered the perpetrator. The source of the voices we’d heard was – the TV we’d forgotten to turn off! And the rustling packages? A mylar balloon that had become tangled in a ceiling fan. The officers also pointed out that a back door was unlocked and that we shouldn’t leave it that way.

Oh. My. Word.

After sheepishly thanking the police for their time, we made a pact NEVER to reveal this humiliating story to anyone! Imagine my surprise a few years later when my father-in-law asked if I’d ever seen the police report from this incident. I tried to play dumb but he knew. We hadn’t counted on the neighbors on his block ratting us out.

I guess I'll never live this down - especially from those of my friends who are officers of the law. But, what’s the point of life if not to find the humor in it – even if it makes you look ridiculous?