The other night I was lying in bed, dead asleep, when I heard a scratching noise coming from inside my house. Waking up to the thought of being raped and murdered is less than ideal. And while I lie in bed for a good three or four minutes listening to the scratching, whimpering noise, my head started to get extremely hot and I realized, if there is someone in my home right now, the home that I am all alone in, this person is going to harm me and there is nothing I can do to stop him. I suddenly began wishing with all my might that when I reached under my bed, there would be a Remington 12 gauge pump action shotgun handy.
But there wasn't.
It was about this time when I came out of my dead sleep and realized that one of my roommates has a damn dog, a dog that I try with all my might to ignore, which is probably the reason for my scare. I completely forgot about little Belle, the tiny chihuahua, who is usually quiet as a mouse when her mother is home. Fear aside, I went to sleep, hell bent on buying a gun the next day.
But. I am from a home that does not believe in loaded guns. I grew up with a gun cabinet, full of rifles, shotguns, bows, arrows, ammunition, whathaveyou, but not one of those weapons was ever loaded and ready for use. It simply was not necessary. I also grew up with a very large man in my house who, when in a situation he felt was harmful to his children, no matter how asleep the large man was, would plundered through the house with strange lucidity, prepared to come to blows with whatever the thing was he felt was endangering the household.
I do not have that luxury now. What I do have, is a scared-y pants chihuahua.
So, what to do? Keep a loaded gun under my bed? The idea has me nervous. Then what? Keep an unloaded shotgun under my bed? What's the use. Put a sign on my door that says, "We have a gun. Don't break in or I'll shoot you in the leg. Probably not straight in the gut because, well, while it would stop you from doing what you're doing, I don't want to kill you, and eventually, you will probably die from a close range shotgun blast to the gut, and no one wants to sit in a courtroom over the fact that you're a dumbass. You should probably just leave while you have the chance."?
No.
You remember the Johnny Cash song, "Don't Take Your Guns to Town?" Poor Billy Joe was just a youth when he went into town for the first time. "He changed his clothes and shined his boots and combed his dark hair down"...? Remember? Anyway, his mother begged him to not take his guns to town, it's just asking for trouble. Damn it if Bill took his guns to town anyway, got into a bar fight, and tried to pull his gun, wasn't quick enough, and was shot.
Damn it, Bill!
DON'T TAKE YOUR GUNS TO TOWN, SON. LEAVE YOUR GUNS AT HOME.
Need advice, friends!
(Oh and if you are a serial rapist reading this post, I have already bought a gun and it's waiting on your ass.)
Josh and I both have a gun. I could not make up my mind if I wanted to bring a gun into the house, especially having kids. The more I thought about it, I decided I did want one for saftey. So, we keep ours with bullets in the magazine, but not charged. We also keep them in the gun safe under our bed. If Josh is not home, the gun is still in the safe, but it is charged and ready to fire. The code on the safe is easy (I could get into it within seconds). Sure, you could argue that having to get it out of the safe and charge it might take too long, but this is the way I feel safe. If I had a moments warning, I am sure I could get to in in time. Of course, there is also the issue I have to make sure I am in danger and it is not Josh or one of the kids, but I keep that in mind (make sure before I ever fire). This is just one of those things that there is not a comfortable right choice.
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