Yesterday afternoon, I pulled the Sebring into its parking place and turned off the engine. Sister Serendipity sat in the passenger side, chatting on the phone with our mother.

I went upstairs and gathered up the pooches for their daily ‘after work’ potty session.

Sister Serendipity remained in the Sebring….chatting on the phone with our mother.

Toph quickly scouted out a place on the grass and did his business, which I cleaned up…and I began to look around for our tiny tot, George. While doing so, I glanced back over at our vehicles to see if Sister Serendipity had yet emerged. No such luck. She continued to sit in the Sebring and chat on the phone with mom.

As I stared, a late model, four-door black Pontiac Grand Am pulled up behind our cars, perpendicular. A heavyset young man emerged, clad in a Mavericks jersey and wearing his hair clipped short and sporting a moustache and goatee combo.

At this point, I am about twenty feet from where he stands, and somewhat hidden from view behind a tree and brick fence.

He casually walks up to my truck and looks over the tailbed. I stare intently….knowing that the only things back there are some rain-ruined moving boxes, and a collapsable Michael Graves dog kennel that I placed out there upon my return to Dallas this weekend.

As I watched, dumbfounded, he lifted the kennel out of the back of my truck and turned to place it in his car.

I started forward, dragging an unwilling Topher with me…and momentarily leaving George to his own devices.

“Sir!”, I called. “Sir! What are you doing?!?!” I began to run towards him.

“I’m getting stuff out of my truck!” he yelled back. (Liar Liar….)

“No you’re not!” I countered. “Because that’s MY truck!!”

At that point I began to scream, “Call the police! Get his license plate number! Call the police!!”

My sister? Remained in the car, chatting on the phone with our mother. Later she stated she heard me screaming…but just assumed I was berating Topher for making another dash into the street. How in the world she never noticed the black Grand Am parked DIRECTLY BEHIND HER CAR and didn’t hear the man yelling back at me, I will never know.

The man tried to stuff the kennel into the driver’s side of his car as I approached at a dead run, dragging fifteen pounds of uncooperative dachshund in my wake. He then realized I was going to reach him before he could succeed….and the threw the kennel at me.

It was a sissy throw. Even I can throw better than that. LEFT HANDED….FROM A SITTING POSITION….WITH A FIFTEEN POUND DACHSHUND IN THE FREAKIN’ KENNEL AT THE TIME.

He jumped inside his car and placed it into drive. I stood in front of him, blocking his exit from the complex. He gunned the moter and headed left. I cut him off, my high-heeled sandals sliding on the concrete and gravel.

The entire time, I am screaming for my sister…screaming for anyone to call the police.

My sister? REMAINED IN THE CAR CHATTING ON THE PHONE WITH MY MOM.

The driver swept to to the right, and my fast moving feet managed to cut him off again. At this point I raced up to him and placed my hand on the hood of his car. I surveyed my immediate area for something to use as a weapon. All I had handy was a fifteen pound dachshund…and while I am sure he would have made a heck of a dent on the hood….I think I might prefer to keep him a little longer.

At this point, Sister Serendipity emerges from the car, with the cell phone still glued to her ear, chatting with my mother.

I screamed at her to “hang up the &$%$*# phone and call the police!!! To get his #$%#$^& license plate number and report it!!!” The front of his car, the only portion I could see, didn’t have a license plate, or even a bracket to hold one.

Sister Serendipity then took a breath and told mom in a slightly bored voice, “Hey…can I call you back later? Someone is trying to steal something out of Jeri’s truck and she wants me to call the police.”
No panic, no sense of urgency. Nada.

At that point, Grand Theft Auto Boy slammed his car into reverse and peeled out backwards in the parking lot. Sister Serendpity did not manage to get his license plate number, but the guy almost sideswiped a car pulling through the other drive. I gave chase, but it was to no avail. I couldn’t see him.

Sister Serendipity didn’t see the license plate number, thus it was truly no use in contacting the authorities.
I quickly shook off the burst of adrenaline..then remembered……GEORGE!!!

I raced around the fencing to find the little petite pooch rolling around in the grass, dappled with sunlight that glimmered through the trees. He truly is my sister’s dog. Not the least bit concerned about the ruckus that occurred within feet of him. Once he saw me, he sat up, gave me a nonchalant glance…then rolled back over on his back to kick at the waving blades of grass.

I am thinking about leaving a handwritten sign on the back of my truck……’Sorry sucker, bested by a girl in high heels!”