So, my mom passed away when I was 12. My dad worked late in the city so I was on my own from after school into the evening. The house I grew up in was a big old Victorian , which was creepy enough, but I digress.
One evening, I'm going around doing whatever I was doing, with the tv on for company and the dog close by. All of a sudden she ran into the kitchen, hair all standing up, barking like crazy. I went in after her to see what she was barking at, she's at the door that went down into the basement , which had a half glass upper frame, going absolutely ballistic. I mean lunging ,snarling, clawing , jumping up.
And there is a man there. On the basement side of the door. The scary part, in retrospect, was that the Doberman didn't scare him, nor did I. He looked right at me and pointed down to the doorknob.
I ran out the front door and over to the next door neighbors, the cops were called, they found a window broken in the basement and I think some other stuff, I don't remember a whole lot after running in terror.
What a good dog! Who knows what would have happened if it wasn't for her! I will never not have a dog. And a gun. But a dog will deter people in the first place, and alert you in time to get to your gun.