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Rated: E · Short Story · Experience · #2234798
Molly was a small white poodle cross that belonged to my mom and one night, we met a giant
I heard her growl and knew immediately something wasn't right. Molly didn't like cats, and there were plenty around here after dark, but there was something in her tone that told me this was no cat.

Molly was a poodle/terrier cross and was around thirteen years old. Despite her age, she was a good watchdog and I trusted her alerts. It was a cold (by Queensland standards) winter's morning around 4.30 am. I rose out of my bed and opened my door. Molly was waiting for me with a concerned look. Dogs are good at communicating once you get to know their nuances and body language and if not for a lack of a voice box, she would have had the vocabulary of a six-year-old. Our eyes met in the darkness and she let out a quiet little "woof'. She turned and we headed silently towards the front door.

Outside was an enclosed verandah with glass panels and a sliding glass door. The night before, I had let her outside to do her business before going to bed, and as it turned out, I had left the glass door ajar for her return and when she made her way through the main house door we both now cautiously approached, I had locked it but had left the glass door on our verandah ajar.

It was then I heard a noise outside on the verandah, and Molly let out another growl, more serious than before. The sun had not yet risen, but there was enough light to make out the switch for the outside light. I hit the switch and simultaneously opened the front door where Molly and I saw a giant. He must have stood six feet five inches or more, but to Molly and I, he might as well have been twenty feet.

This intruder was a South Sea Islander, and as our eyes met, he assessed us in an instant. Then with complete disdain and not a skerrick of fear or surprise to see this little man and his white poodle standing not ten feet away, he continued taking apart my telescope for removal. My hand remained on the door, just in case this unwelcome intruder decided the telescope wasn't enough for his heist.

He was inadequately clothed for such a cold morning, wearing only a T-Shirt and shorts, with no shoes. All he had with him was my telescope and a small blanket draped over his shoulder (in hindsight I wish I had said something insulting about his blanky). We stood staring at each other for a few seconds before he casually made his way the few steps to the open glass door, carrying the telescope sideways across his body. As he went to go through the door, the legs of the telescope hit one side of the glass, and the cylindrical top of the telescope hit the door jam on the other side.

Looking back, I think he must have been under the influence because instead of backing up and turning the item so it would fit through the doorway, he again tried to go through, reminding me of a dog carrying a bone in its mouth trying to get through an opening that was too narrow. All the while, Molly and I stood watching in disbelief as the man-mountain performed his attempted exit/theft.

He somehow managed to fumble the telescope through the door, but one side caught again, and he dropped it forward and down the three steps to the grass below. Up until this time, he hadn't made a sound. At the bottom of the stairs, as he bent down to retrieve his booty, his blanket dropped from his shoulder.

Watching all of this unfold through the glass panel, and from the safety of the main door, his frustration boiled over. It seemed beyond him to carry both items. He then abandoned his efforts to secure both items, picked up his blanket, kicked my telescope with a grunt of displeasure and exited through the front gate. Once through the gate, I made my way to the glass door. I suddenly developed courage, saying, "Yeah, you get out of here!" (only with swear words).

When he heard my words, his lazy stride broke for a fraction of a second before I quickly closed the glass door and locked it. He then continued walking slowly down the street. I then went outside, retrieved my telescope, went back inside, locked the door and Molly and I went back to bed.


The next day, I called the police to report the incident. They sent a forensics officer to get fingerprints. I wasn't home when the cop arrived. My mother was home, telling me later that the officer was a lovely chap who had stayed for a cup of tea and a chat. During their conversation, he mentioned that his son had an interest in astronomy.

The telescope had been given to me by a workmate who had won it in a competition, and an idea came to me. The next day, I went to our local police station and asked if they could contact the forensics officer to tell him I wanted to give the telescope to his son. The officer told me police are not allowed to receive gifts. When I explained it wasn't for the officer himself, but for his son, they made the call and the cop came and picked it up from our home the next day.

And here's the thing...if the intruder had just knocked on my door and asked if I wanted to sell the telescope, I would have given it to him for free. In any case, it made for a strange morning the day Molly and I met a giant.
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