GUARD DOGG

We all have fears. For some of us it's death. Others, public speaking. And for some strange reason there are people that have an extreme fear of spoons. And I'm not talking about the big wooden ones my mother useful beat me within an inch of my life with. I'm talking about spoons. Fear is a strange emotion, and sometimes manifests itself in strange ways. We often find phobias in others that seem ridiculous. That does not make the fear any less real or horrifying for the sufferer.
 
Personally, I have three dominant fears.
 
1. Sharks. This, for me, is a no-brainer. I am not paralyzed by this fear to the point where I will not go in the water. But would I swim in an unpatrolled beach without slower, more delicious looking bathers all around me? That would be NO.
 
2. Failure. Everything I am is a consequence of this fear. It drives me. I have accepted that if I go swimming in the ocean often enough I may get attacked by a shark, but I cannot accept failure. In all aspects of my life, be it as a father, a provider, a sportsman or academic, I have and will always strive to succeed. Not because I crave the accolades success brings. Because the thought of failing at anything seems disastrous.
 
3. Home invasion. My worst fear. The thought that somebody will enter my house while I'm asleep is with me every night. Any noise that is not immediately recognisable must be completely investigated before I could possibly attempt sleep. All doors must be checked and double checked. Cracking of the cooling colorbond roof. A stray cat setting off the front door light. The refrigerator motor kicking in. My mind tells me each time that there is someone outside my home, trying to get in. Someone who is there just as much to hurt me and my family than they are to steal from me. A pack of wolves constantly circling my flock.
 
My wife has, over the course of many years, tried to convince me otherwise. That every noise has a rational explanation. To her, my fear was as irrational as the spoon. That was until last Friday, when at 3am, someone tried to open our ensuite window. A window that had been unlocked more nights than I could count, was locked shut to keep the cold out. This, in my extreme way of thinking, may have saved my life.
 
As a result of the incident, I now have a fear much worse than before. My wife, who now suffers from a very similar phobia is no longer the voice of reason, but a sound board that echoes my fear. We are two young children on a sleepover, convincing ourselves that we just saw a ghost.
Being on-call for a busy hospital has me constantly driving to and from work in the middle of the night. I could not count the number of times I've driven to the corner of my street, praying that I don't see the flashing lights of emergency vehicles. After last weekend that fear is with me every minute I spend at work.
 
To make matters worse, working in the emergency services field, I have seen what happens to residents who confront intruders into their home. These people may enter your house looking for easy money, but they are also capable of terrible violence. And frequency is increasing. The criminal element within our communities is either getting more desperate, or less human. Stories on home invasions seem to be as regular as weather updates on the news in recent times. A man beaten to death in Wellington. A woman has her throat cut and a 5 year old girl is abducted in two separate instances in Wagga Wagga.  
Pensioners are being regularly targeted. And a Muslim man named Christian (?) is whipped with a cable for drinking a beer in Sydney's south west. All victims of home invasions.
 
 
 
So the question of what to do in the event of a home invasion now plays over and over in my head.
As of last Wednesday a Gold Coast man has been charged with manslaughter after shooting an intruder. How can a society sit in judgement of a man who defended himself from an invader? Would we as a country afford any level of courtesy to an invading army? Would our leaders suggest a peaceful resolution? I hope not. This man defended himself as effectively as he knew how. I applaud his actions. If I am ever confronted with an intruder whilst within reach of my cricket bat, I will not pause to calculate how much force will be required to immobilise them without fatally wounding them. I will swing as hard as I possibly can. I will attempt to deliver a blow that in all possibility could leave me facing jail.
I can only hope I am never faced with that situation.
 
And so, we will continue to vigilantly defend Fortress Webeck (as it is beginning to resemble) and continue to flinch at every night time sound, in the hope that our security efforts are a gross overreaction to a one-off minor incident.
 
My apologies for the seriousness of this blog. I promise the next one will be hilarious.
 
Until then.....Stay the fuck out of my house!