You could hire us to guard your property for you. We're that good.

Today, Ellie and I went to Oxford together, (along with our wonderful friend, Julia, who really deserves a whole post all to herself,) and when I dropped Ellie off at her house, I went to the door with her. Her family had been gone all day, so the house had been empty while we were gone. Empty, as in, nobody home. But don't worry! Eleanor totally locked the door when she left. HA! Or not.

Can you tell I'm building up to something here?

We walked up the back porch stairs, laughing and talking, (not quietly,) and to our mutual dismay discovered the back door standing wide open, with clothes and shoes spilling out onto the porch, and the laundry room, which we could see through the open door, a complete mess. Like, something, or someone, had been there.

Now, they have a rowdy, cute, evil little puppy who likes to bite toes and who acts like he's high most of the time. So, one would assume it was the puppy, right? But wouldn't he still be in the house, pooping in a dark corner, or eating stuff out of the pantry, or chewing Eleanor's best shoes... not cheerfully dancing around our feet, getting in a bite wherever he could?

What's the next logical conclusion? A break in, of course. And while neither of us really believed that to be the answer, we didn't want to be foolish and just go waltzing in while there could be a desperate villain hiding behind any chair. Ellie, who's twice as brave as her diminutive size would lead you to believe, grabbed Bro. Robert's large axe from beside the woodpile, and I grabbed the sledgehammer sitting beside it. Well, I didn't actually grab it, I more like awkwardly-heaved-it-up-on-my-shoulder, because dang, those things are heavy. All I've got to say is that lumberjacks must have massive muscles.

Inside we went, carefully peering behind doors and under beds, except for the bed in the boy's room, because believe me, nothing could hide under there, even a small rabbit. If there's ever a lego shortage, Dalton and Shafer have all their bases covered. (At least, I think it was mostly legos residing under their bed. I was more than a little rattled, so my identify-that-object skills were a little off.)

Meanwhile, Ellie got the Family Pistol from its hiding place, and we explored the rest of the house looking like agents from Mission Impossible. Except I'm pretty sure none of them carried sledgehammers while complaining about how much their arm muscles hurt. Yeah, I'm just waaay cooler than Tom Cruise.

Anyway, the good news is, we decided that owing to the amount of clothes and shoes strewn all through the house, and the lack of stolen property, it must've been their puppy, and not some vicious break-inner. Yes, "break-inner" is a word.

And the best news? Ellie and I are totally prepared for any emergency involving a possible break in. So long as there's an axe, a gun, and most of all, a ridiculously heavy sledgehammer available.