My outing with the police last week was, thankfully, much less eventful than the previous week. But I'm glad to be able to announce two significant achievements. First, know that my officer this week was the appropriately-named Officer Constable. Yes, for real.
We begin with the rescue of a puppy. Okay, not rescue exactly. . . so a neighbor called 311 because this puppy was chained to a tree (not legal, yo!). The chain was attached to a rope that was attached to a tiny pet carrier that, we assumed, was supposed to act as a kennel/shelter. I'm not even sure the little tyke would have fit in there, but as it was he was just leaping about barking because he and the kennel were all twisted up.
And no food or water to hand, either. I mean, come on, people, seriously?
We untangled him and I filled his water dish from a garden hose. We gave him some love, too, which he seemed to appreciate.
Next on the agenda was something a little more serious. A young lady who'd had a bad couple of days, first at the hands of her boyfriend (classy guy, I can tell you) and then she felt she wasn't being treated right by the authorities.
We were on scene at a disturbance call, but when we got there she wasn't really disturbing much, just upset. She had no place to go and no way to get there if she did. Officer Constable (I love saying that) stepped up and volunteered to drive her to a shelter. We talked to her on the way there and she calmed right down. It struck me that this was the first time in probably 48 hours that someone had been nice, treated her well. When we were taking our leave, Officer Constable went to shake her hand. She took it, then said, starting to cry all over again, "Can I give you a hug?"
Shoulda seen his face.
On the way out, he looked a little shell-shocked.
"Maybe she's not used to cops being so nice to her?" I suggested.
"I'm not used to being hugged by the public," he said. "I think that's the first time that's happened."
Puppies and hugs, all in a night's work.