I was dog-sitting Lincoln, an extremely old Golden Labrador, for my friends Ian and Sue.

Their weekender was nestled into a cliff overlooking a stunning beach.

The home was quite isolated, almost surrounded by a National Park replete with wildflowers; the lane contained fewer than a dozen homes, mostly similar weekenders. 

Just the two of us – this would be a very peaceful holiday break for me.

The home was very comfortable, high-set to take advantage of the views. The driveway was quite steep and curved into the double garage under the house. An internal staircase made entry easy during wet or windy weather.

The first evening, I relaxed in an arm-chair with a good book and fine music playing in the background. I could still hear the waves breaking in the distance. Lincoln lay at my feet, contented.

Then I heard it. Lincoln gave a low growl, and his hackles were raised. The garage roller door was going up! I froze.

The sound stopped. The internal door to the downstairs area was closed – at least I knew that!

Some-one had raised the garage door – and had access to the house. I quietly stepped towards the internal door and saw a crack of light underneath. The lights were definitely on in the garage; they came on automatically when the roller door went up.

What was I to do? I was alone in an unfamiliar area where I knew no-one.

Goosebumps on my arms betrayed my fear.

I thought the internal switch for the garage door was at the top of the stairs – but should I activate the switch for the door to descend and the lights to turn off?

Some-one may well be hiding in the garage. There were multiple hiding places amongst the tools, fishing rods, golf-clubs, beach umbrellas, and several stacks of boxes. 

But I couldn't leave the door up and the lights on – anyone could just walk in.

I paced the house, looking for a weapon. The best I could find was a heavy frying pan. Would I have the courage to use it? Very doubtful. Would Lincoln protect me? Even more doubtful.

Just as I placed my hand on the door-knob I heard the sound again. The door was going down – and I had not yet used the switch. The lights went off. Lincoln gave another low growl. Was some-one still inside? Or had the person left?

Surely one of the keys was for the internal door to the garage! Yes! I locked myself in, placing the frying-pan near the door.

Very late that evening the same thing occurred. The door remained up for a few minutes, and the lights came on; then the door went down and the lights went off. Very creepy. Sleeping that first night was not easy.

The next morning, with the courage brought by a bright sunny day, I checked the garage. Nothing seemed to be out of place, nothing seemed to be missing - but how would I know?

Several evenings the same drama unsettled me. I remained locked upstairs waiting for "the happening", which sometimes didn't actually happen. I remained tense nevertheless.

I was relieved and happy when Ian and Sue returned. Both Lincoln and I were still alive! A little embarrassed, I explained the peculiar goings-on.

"I'm so sorry!" Ian exclaimed. "We don't come here very often, but I know what the problem is! I keep forgetting to get it fixed!"

His explanation?

"The neighbour further down the street has the same code on the remote control for his garage door! When he activates his, our garage door goes up as well, and when he closes his door, ours closes too! They must be in their weekender at present – and they must have gone out in the evenings!"

I laughed without a great deal of mirth, feeling quite weak at the knees.