Neighborhood sketchiness

I hope I don't meet this guy in my neighborhood.

A while back, after a woman was raped on a part of the trail that we frequent, I wrote about my anger over the insidious fear that can stem from such an incident. Suddenly, I felt a little less safe in my neighborhood, especially when Zach wasn't around, and in spite of having two sizable dogs with me at virtually all times.

When I heard that someone of a similar description had struck again in this area (thankfully it wasn't quite a rape this time), my first thought was, "Whew. I'm glad that we have Machete right now."

Now, isn't that the face of a living, breathing crime deterrent?

Sweet though he may be, our shovel-headed black foster dog looks like a roughneck. It's an attribute that I found appealing right away. But as it turns out, even armed with the bully-faced Machete, as well as the big-but-not-at-all-scary-looking Minnie and Luke, I remain hesitant to go into my front yard, much less venture onto the trail, after dark. (You can be damn sure that if I did, Machete would be sans his conversation-starting, dayglow "Adopt Me" vest.)

I hate feeling influenced in this way by a jackass who doesn't even strike at night (both attacks occured very early in the morning). I don't know if my reaction is rational, paranoid, culturally-induced or some combination thereof. It's frustrating that the dogs don't add much to my sense of security, but I guess that's an issue I have to work out with myself. Because there will always be bad guys.

Women reading this blog: Do your dogs make you feel safe? What else helps?