Let's face it, too many people are lax when it comes to dinosaur security. How many times have you forgotten to lock the windows at night, only to wake up to find a teenaged Coelophysis trying to swallow the Cheerios box? That hole on your screen door you keep meaning to fix--how many Microraptors have to flutter through before you hoist up your overalls and get the job done? Grab your toolboxes, boys and girls, because you're about to get a crash course in dinosaur-proofing your home.
Vacuum regularly. Those tiny bits of hummus, pizza, and Ritz crackers clinging to your shag rug are a siren call to dinosaurs lower down on the food chain. Since the average five-pound Compsognathus doesn't stand much chance of taking down a ten-ton Brachiosaurus, he'll happily spend all night sucking the dried grape juice from your rayon carpet. (Note: if your living room hosts more than two or three dinosaur genera, you might want to consider a steam cleaning.)
Clean out your gutters. Surely, you think, no dinosaur will want to eat the decaying clumps of leaves, acorns and windswept grass clogging the gutters of your ranch house. Well, that's probably true--but did you ever consider the kind of wildlife that might be residing in the stagnant pools of water up on your roof? The next time a mosasaur slides down your drain pipe and bites the local PTA chairwoman on her never-you-mind, don't say that we didn't warn you.
Install double-paned windows. You think dogs are dumb? Not only will an Iguanodon challenge his own reflection in a window, he'll bring back the entire herd for a full-on rumble. Ideally, you'll want to go with unbreakable plastic windows rather than vulnerable glass, and you might consider investing in some thick, sunlight-blocking drapes. (It's a small price to pay not to have a Tyrannotitan leering at you as you're trying to get dressed in the morning.)
Replace your roof tiles. If you're out in the country, most contractors recommend Jurassic Grade Seven Roof Shale, which will maintain your house's structural integrity even if a boisterous titanosaur jumps on it with all four feet. Suburban and city dwellers will probably be able to get by with Jurassic Grade Four or less, which you can pick up at your local Home Depot or Wal-Mart and is guaranteed to withstand dinosaurs weighing less than three tons.
Consider a high-tech security system. Even a nearsighted homeowner can spy a Stegosaurus approaching from a mile away; the real problem is if your house is being cased by a pack of ravenous raptors, which like to hunt at night and know how to keep a low profile. Theropods are nimble and warm-blooded, so if they're thick in your 'hood you'll want to invest in infrared detection technology and/or one of those criss-cross laser-alert systems you see in heist movies.
Institute a password system. Unusually smart dinosaurs, like Troodon, have been known to steal the credit-card numbers of unwary shoppers and rent "elementary school boy" costumes from the local Halloween emporium. Pick your security code as you would your online banking PIN number: random numbers and letters, and no birthdays or street addresses. And for god's sake, don't carry the password around in your wallet, as Troodons are also accomplished pickpockets.
Be careful what you flush. Remember that old urban myth about kids flushing baby alligators down the toilet? Well, consider a version where the baby alligators don't grow up to be adult alligators, but are instead swallowed whole by the Liopleurodons that lurk in the average city's sewer system. A Liopleurodon has to eat hundreds of pounds of food every day just to maintain its weight; unless you've properly secured your bathroom, that's an entire dinner party.
Don't play your stereo too loud. As a rule, the best way to keep dinosaurs out of your home is to maintain a low profile. If you insist on blasting the Beastie Boys out your open living-room window at 11 o'clock in the morning, don't be surprised if a pack of Allosaurus shows up on your doorstep. They may want to slam-dance; they may want you to give them beer; they may want to eat you and spit out the bones. Is it really worth taking the risk and finding out?
Avoid deliveries. We've already been through the Troodon-dressing-up-as-a-10-year-old bit, but it can't be said strongly enough: theropod dinosaurs excel at mimicry, especially when lunch is at stake. True, the average Gigantoraptor isn't quite as deft as its brainy cousin, and may foolishly dress up as a Federal Express deliveryman in order to sell you a vacuum cleaner. Play it safe and put out a "No Salesmen" place mat; better yet, just remove the front door of your home.
Train your pets. This is the first recourse to which most people resort vis-a-vis dinosaur safety, but sadly, it usually takes three or four visits to Bide-A-Wee to identify the exact right breed of dog to intimidate an insistent Achillobator. Cats, when it comes to dinosaur protection, are completely useless (then again, cats, when it comes to virtually everything, are completely useless, unless you need to toss something out the window to keep that Dilophosaurus at bay).
