The past two nights I've had my sleep broken by a prowler in the garden, rifling through sheds. I hasten to add that I'm not at home in my corner of the Highlands (where people still leave their houses and cars unlocked), but in the crime-ridden south of England, staying with my parents-in-law.
On both occasions my four legged burglar alarms scared off the intruders with their blood curdling growls (fortunately they sound big and ferocious even though they're not either). As it happens a neighbour had his house broken into and car stolen a bit further down the street, so I'm quite glad my furry intruder alarms are being hyper-vigilant. After two disturbed nights I'm shattered though and will be glad to get back home (even though I'm being spoiled with central heating here :-)
You'd think thick snow on the ground would deter a would-be burglar - his foot prints are totally visible this morning. Now, my rudimentary reading of Enid Blyton tells me I just need to go out with my ruler and the mystery will be solved ;-)
Either the prowler(s) is/are very stupid or they know the police really aren't going to bother...