Breaking & Entering

This morning, Mom called me at 9:45am & said her place had been broken into. She had spent the night at her man's & just arrived home. She was hysterical, freaking out, then, while I'm on the phone with her, she sees puddles of blood on the tubs & stuff under the broken window. She tweaked. Ran in the house, couldn't think, tried to count kitties, couldn't even think of their names. I was already at work & I drove like a crazy woman to her place. A sheriff was already there, she was calmer because she had managed to account for all the cats, some of whom were a little wild-eyed and some who had wedged themselves under the sofa, but all were unhurt. But she wasn't exaggerating - there was blood literally dripping off things. So, the culprit damaged himself quite badly. And GOOD! I was absolutely furious. Ready to kill someone. They came in the garage because that's unlockable, hurled one of Mom's large rocks thru the top pane of the window between the garage & the trailer, pushed the TV & DVD (both were okay) player onto the floor, apparently whacked the crap out of themself while crawling thru the window - there was blood all over the curtains, but not dripped on the floor oddly enough. They stole a couple of random knicky-knacky things that they probably thought were antiques - little did they know Mom had given a couple bucks for each item, probably at thrift stores & garage sales. Then, they went into the bedroom, rifled thru her closet but didn't steal her very-important-filebox, bled on her security guard uniform, dripped blood on the brand-new sheets I just got her, stole a pillowcase (which, she was quite glad about, was NOT one of the flannel ones but rather an old one she had put on so she could wash the new ones), stole a curtain (????? a single curtain ??????? perhaps to staunch the blood????), went thru her jewelry chest, which would be the jackpot because Mom is a jewelry fiend, & took a pair of diamond earrings along with several other earring sets, her expensive antique garnet necklace that Grandma gave her, and her precious lightning charm necklace that her boyfriend, Eddie, gave her. She was very upset about the garnet necklace, but when she started thinking about Eddie's necklace, the ol' chin started quivering & she started crying again. It was very sad. BUT. We both had to agree that it could've been a LOT worse. If kitties were damaged, I would be armed & dangerous right now, on the hunt.

Her friend Carol came over while the sheriff was there & we all milled about & offered what we hoped was helpful advice. He seemed to get a big kick out of us. And he kept referring to Mom "the victim". Sounded kinda grim. Then Detective Brumfield showed up, complete with his long black Columbo overcoat & CSI kit. Swabbed at the blood (the sheriff & detective, not to mention all of us, were quite pleased with the amount of blood - in fact, the detective said he could find the robber laying dead down the street & "it wouldn't bother [him] a bit"!), dusted the boombox which the burglar must've abandoned or forgot before bolting, a garden trowel that the jerk used to pry at the door before he decided to bust the window, and the back door. Only a partial print was found, but the detective said it might be enough to force a confession out of the criminal but was not complete enough to provide any sort of identity. And if the fingerprint didn't work, "that's when they take them in the back room & beat them". Gotta love cop humor. And, he said, contrary to what the TV show CSI always shows, it could take up to a year & a half to get the results back! A year & a half! I was hoping to have a name & ambush the guy this weekend with a length of rope & drag him behind the truck down a gravel road buck-naked for ruining my mother's peace of mind. Dammit.

After the policey fellows left, Carol brought over her hammer & Shop Vac & beat the rest of the glass out of the window. I picked up the big pieces & sucked up the smalls. We all worked in the garage to wipe it down & put it back together. Blood was all over several of Mom's coolers, a couple boxes & the floor. I mean, it was running off these things! And fairly fresh. So it must've happened earlier this morning. And the dumb brute rootled thru Mom's basket of dirty cat laundry, bled all over it, & must've swiped something out of there to wrap whatever he lopped open. Which is why we're uncertain about the reason for the curtain theft. But, we're really really hoping he ends up with a lot of cat hair, pee, and hairball in his wound which will confound the hospital folks if the idiot happens to show up for medical attention.

So, I reek of bleach, have fingerprint dust all over me, but we got to watch the detective work his CSI magic which we all found quite fascinating. He admitted he watches the show CSI to make fun of it. Ha!

I'm heading back over there tonight to ... I dunno, moral support I guess. Carol was helping her jimmy-rig something for the window so I hope that works out okay for her. I'm not sure what else to do other than buy her a pit bull & big fat lock. She did at least have the trailer locked - I felt bad because as soon as I heard she'd been broken into, I barked, "Mom! THIS is why I want you to keep your doors locked!" & she started sobbing more. I felt, meh, this big: - . Then she said she did have it locked & I apologized profusely then apologized again when I got there & gave her a big squelch. Poor thing. As if she doesn't have enough to worry about! And she had to call into her new place of work but they understood completely. She offered to bring a copy of the police report & the guy at the office said, "If I couldn't believe you about something like this, we wouldn't have you working for us. You just take care of yourself for now." So that was a relief to her. I feel absolutely terrible for her. I was trying to think of a nice cheering gift to bring her this evening. Chocolate is good, but I want something keepable. And I'm getting Carol something, too, for being a good friend.

I'm still feeling bloodthirsty tho'. It was probably some punk kid from the trailer park, but Mom seriously thinks she's been being watched for a while now. Cigarette butts in front of her place, someone crunching around in the frost-crusted grass at 4:30 am several weeks ago, freaking out the kitties & waking Mom up. This makes me want to KILL someone. KILL! Getting a gun license & a gun is an idea. Parking my truck down the street & then parking myself in her living room & waiting with said gun is then feasible. I'm a vengeful, vicious soul anyway - which might be obvious what with all my frothing at the mouth, and the thought anyone doing something to my mom OR her cats is enough to fill me with a raging madness.

Fucking thieves. Why can't they just go get a job like the rest of us? Is a life of crime really that much easier? Or is prison just that tempting? I'm just hoping the asshole doesn't return when Mom IS there. Hopefully he only felt secure in breaking in because there was nobody home. My only bit of comfort in regards to that is that Carol is going to loan Mom her mega-volt industrial-duty cattle prod/shocking device. Mom is small, but boy, she can get pissed!