Fat lot of good that did without my glasses, so I went back in the house and got them. I thought I’d at least go look in the dirt where the woodpile belongs and see if there were footprints.

This time, as soon as I shined the light towards the fence between the houses, something large and brown moved.

I screamed like a little girl, and then I screamed for Jonathan to pplease call the police, because there clearly was someone in my yard. While I was screaming, I had both the flashlight and the gun pointed right at whoever it was, and I yelled the classic, “Don’t move; I have a gun!”

Oh, and she believed me too. She stayed right down on the ground and started begging for mercy. Now, I’m not going to shoot anyone that’s not a threat, so I put the gun back down at my side but kept her spotlighted with the flashlight and told her not to move. At no time did I ever have my finger in the trigger guard.

I stood there in the rain with that flashlight pointed right in her face for what must have been a full half-hour. She turned out to be a big fat naked black woman who kept begging me, “Please ma’am, don’t call the police, I’m afraid.” She was also mumbling something about drugs and being afraid that her kids would find out. Since she had scared the piss out of me by breaking into my yard and the police had already been called, I pretty much ignored that. I told her that I wasn’t going to hurt her and let her put her bathrobe on. She must have lost it coming over the fence.

My neighbor from across the street came over when Jonathan’s wife called her, and she went in my house and turned on my porch lights so the cops could find me. I wasn’t going to go anywhere. Jonathan brought over his portable phone, because dispatch wanted to talk to me, especially since I was armed. They got my description so the deputy would know who was supposed to have a gun and who wasn’t. Once they were close, dispatch had me put the gun away in the house so I didn’t scare the deputies. Jonathan held the flashlight on her while I did that.

Five cop cars showed up with lights and sirens, some from the neighboring city, which brought out everyone else in the neighborhood. The deputy put the handcuffs on the woman and led her out to the car. Apparently, I had the choice of what to do at that point; I had no idea you’d have a choice and I was in a little bit of a dilemma. Turns out she was claiming to be my neighbor on the other side of Jonathan. So the deputy went up to that house (they hadn’t come out when all of the police cars showed up with lights and sirens, which I found odd) and talked to the husband.

He said that she’s on some sort of mental medication that can interact strangely with alcohol, and that she had been drinking that night. So now what do I do? Prosecute a neighbor for trespassing and deal with the fallout? Let it go? She kept saying that she was afraid for her kids—well, what about mine? I tell you what, I would have been a lot more nervous and possibly trigger-happy if I’d had my kids here to worry about, but fortunately, they were at their Dad’s.

The husband seemed really together, and they’ve always seemed like quiet people, so I didn’t prosecute. The deputy got all of my information and gave me a case number though.

The deputy was quite nice and didn’t say one word about me having a gun. Of course, there’s nothing illegal about having one and using it in your own home, but some cops can be pretty shy about that. I understand why, but that doesn’t make it right from my point of view, and I’m very glad that I don’t live in a city where those kinds of attitudes are commonplace. But really, with a half-hour response time, if that had been somone out to do me harm, I could have been long-dead without the means to protect myself. I very much appreciate the supportive neighbors that I have, but the dog is clearly useless as a guard dog. This is why I have a gun. This is why I support the NRA and the Second Amendment.