Wait A Second ... Where's The Piggy Bank?

For all our lives we had this huge piggy bank.  When I was young my brother and I would go to our parents' room with some change, and they would tell us to put our coins into it.  We had it forever.

Well, today I get home and Father says it's gone, probably taken by the assholes who broke into our house.  Oh, have I not told you that our house was broken into?  Our house was broken into.  Some time ago.  We didn't think they stole anything, and they got scared off when they were surprised by the alarm.  But I guess they did get something.

After he told me, suddenly I felt this loss.  There was a lot of change in that pig.  I would not be surprised if there was a grand worth of coins in that bank.  And now it's gone.  The pig, too.  I don't remember a time when we didn't have that bank.  That may have been in this house before I was born.  And now ... it's gone.

I think Father was upset about it, too.  He left the dinner table early to sit in the couch, then he tooled around upstairs after he got done cleaning the dishes.  He often putters around when he's thinking about something.  I thought it best to avoid him, so I went into my bedroom and didn't come out until he was done.  He even took the trash out because I was in my room.

But even though I separated myself from him, I think we were thinking the same thing: How in the hell did we forget about, or maybe more accurately not even notice, the piggy bank?  The robbery happened some time last year, in the fall but before the snow came.  So only now, up to six months after the incident, do we find out it's missing?

That brings up a thorny quandary I played in my head when I knew I could have prevented a robbery and come home early from work the day of the robbery instead of stopping at the coffee house close by the house: If you don't realize you lost something for a long time, do you really have the right to get emotional about losing it?  I feel a sense of loss over the piggybank, but the logic in my head stops me: "Why are you getting sad over it now when you didn't even know it was gone?  In fact, when was the last time you thought about it before being told it's been stolen just now?"  And so I feel guilty about caring.

But I do care.  I care that something very valuable was stolen from us.  I care that our sense of privacy was violated.  And I care that something that has been with this family for decades, and with me my whole life, has been taken from us.  And it really pisses me off that, if true, the sons-of-bitches who stole our piggy bank unplugged the hole underneath it and is going to the nearest bank to empty out and collect the change -- either that or they just broke the pig entirely.

One other thing: The bank was pretty big and heavy.  I hadn't held it in a while, but I remember being really young and not being able to even lift the thing.  Even though I was, like, six at the time, I don't think being a fully-grown person makes it a cinch to lift and carry the piggybank.  I mean, there were a lot of coins in it.

If that's the case, how in the hell did they get it out of the house with some alacrity?  And, come to think of it, did no one notice some guys walking out of our house with this huge yellow pig, leaving the front door open and the alarm blaring behind them?  Actually, you don't really need the pig.  This happened in broad daylight in the late afternoon.  No one noticed guys walking/running out of our house?  There were no kids or running back home from school, or retirees walking around the neighborhood?

DID NO ONE SEE THESE FUCKING PEOPLE BRAKE INTO OUR HOUSE?  NO ONE??