This is an upscale neighborhood where folks can’t remember the last time there was a serious crime.  Maybe a mailbox bashing on a weekend, but nothing like the stuff you read about in the papers.

This night a middle aged couple is awakened by the tinkle of glass.

"Somebody’s downstairs," the woman whispers to her husband.  "Dial 911," the man says.  He reaches into his bedside table and grabs a flashlight.  Working his way to the landing, the man fans the lightbeam down the stairwell.

"I’ve got a gun and I’m going down there," the man announces into the night.  Even without a gun, he figures a macho statement will scare off a burglar.

Actually, it was a very stupid thing to do.  Harry Homeowner has no idea how to deal with a street-wise criminal.  A foolish thing like that could get him killed.  But this is Harry’s lucky night.  The burglar is new to the profession.  He’s got "rookie jitters," and runs at the sound of Harry’s voice.

The cops get there moments later with plenty of backup.  A search turns up nothing.  Nothing except a neighbor’s barking dog.

"A barking dog," sarge thinks.  The dog isn’t barking at the cops.  He’s barking at his own doghouse.  The doghouse four houses down from the break-in.  The doghouse the rookie burglar crawled into but is now afraid to crawl out of because "Brutus" is in his face.