Officer's Best Friend

Officer's Best Friend
(Tales Of The Lost Patrol)

(C) James J Alonzo

One winter night we were going through the drive-in at the local burger place, when a speeder in a Mustang shot by us! Jack in his typical non-thinking reactive way, took off from 0-60 MPH out of the burger joint driveway to the highway! Jack jerked the police car steering wheel hard, barely avoiding a slide onto the graveled shoulder. The icy December air whistled in his ears, from Jack's open car window, but keeping both hands on the steering wheel, he couldn't do anything about it.

"You planning on getting us killed?" I asked as I fastened my seatbelt, wiping my soda drink off my shirt and pants!" It will be great Christmas gift for our kids and wives to plan a funeral." 

"Jim, my own funeral is never my idea of a good Christmas," Jack muttered, resisting the urge to take one hand off the wheel to roll up the window. "It pisses me off, this joker blew the red light before I had a chance to grab my double-bacon-cheeseburger from the kid at the drive-up window."

"My heart bleeds for you!" I said sarcastically, still wiping off the spilled drink off my uniform, "I'm sending you the cleaning bill!"

The Mustang, (later found to been stolen) now in front of us, careened onto Route 20, narrowly missing a semi-truck in the right lane. 

"Idiot!" Jack accelerated and tried to catch up, his foot pushing hard on the gas as the Mustang swung in front of an SUV. Then a hand flashed out the window of the stolen car.

"All right!" Jack speaking through gritted teeth, "flipping me off is gonna get you in more trouble than you've ever been in before. You're gonna regret,,,,,,,"

The rest of the sentence dangled in the air as movement in the rear-view mirror grabbed Jack's attention. A backup police unit screamed past and slid in front of the Mustang. Jack inched his cruiser forward until he was even with the stolen car, and the driver turned his head in slow motion to look at Jack. A spiteful grin spread over the perp's face as he wiggled his middle finger at Jack again. Then the perp leaned toward the passenger's door of his vehicle.

"Shit Jack, it looks like there is a passenger, maybe a kid!" I said.

Jack frowned and his voice rose. 

"No! Don't tell me the perps got someone in that car with him!" 

I grabbed the mic of the radio to call for an ambulance but before I could even click the mic, a small shape flew out the Mustang's passenger side, bounced on the shoulder and rolled down the gully.

Jack hit the brakes, controlling the skid. 

"Don't let that be a kid!" Jack shouted, "Please lord, let it be a backpack or the guy's stash! Something we can hang him with! But please don't let it be a kid!"

As our cruiser slowed, I finished the call for medical assistance and with gravel flailing beneath the tires, Jack pulled the car onto the shoulder and slammed it into park. Flinging the seat belt off, I threw open the door and we bailed out at a dead run. Pebbles crunched and rolled as we half-ran, half-fell down the embankment, our flashlights casting eerie circles in the dry, prickly weeds.

("Don't let it be a kid! Don't let it be a kid!") My mind sang the refrain as my eyes searched.

"Hello," Jack called out loudly, "Where are you? Are you hurt?" 

The only sound came from the traffic above and the winter wind's eerie voice, echoing through the gully.

Then, softly, a whimper. Not a human cry but more like ...

"A dog," Jack said, temper flaring. "Damn it! He threw a dog out of the car, that son of a bitch!"

Before Jack had a chance to finish expressing his thoughts about a man who would commit such an atrocity, his flashlight caught a flicker of sable and white. A dog resembling a miniature Lassie looked up from twenty feet away, blood dripping down her face.

"A Sheltie," I whispered. "Hold still girl, we're coming." 

We slowly worked our way to the dog. She tried to rise, got onto three legs and toppled over.

My heart felt bad, not only for this dog, but for Jack's own Sheltie, Archie, a dog he'd owned all his adult life and that his toddler son Jeff, they had loved dearly, but had been put down just two days ago because age and a stroke.

The Sheltie whimpered again-this time the tone turning into a soft howl at the end.

Jack knelt by the dog, pulled a handkerchief out of his back pocket, slowly reached over and dabbed the blood on the small dog's head. She flinched at his touch, blinked, then gazed steadfastly at Jack, her tootsie-roll-brown eyes reflected pain, but she didn't try to bite.

Above us red lights blinked in a circle as the ambulance pulled up. Two EMTs ran down the embankment, emergency equipment in hand, but they stopped short when they saw the dog.

"The perp threw his dog out the car!" Jack said. "Can you help her?" 

I could tell Jack was wrestling with his emotions, trying hard to keep the pleading out of his voice.

Moving closer, the tall, blond medic looked at his shorter companion. 

"We're not vets so our knowledge is limited. And we'd risk a lawsuit from the owner of the dog  if we provide help and the dog dies."

Jack knew all about frivolous lawsuits and he gave a snort of disgust, 

"The guy who did this couldn't care if she dies!"  As he spoke, the Sheltie's eyes closed.

"She's in shock," the blond EMT said, watching the dog's chest rise and fall rapidly. Then he stepped toward her, and nodded at Jack

"You didn't see anything; I never touched this dog." 

The EMT knelt next to her, gently running his hands over her body as the other medic picked up Jack's flashlight from the ground and held it high. A small, yellow puddle of light fell on the Sheltie. Jack cradled her head in his lap, controlling the bleeding above the eye, whispering courage. Her tan, button ears flicked at his soothing words.

When the EMT got to the dog's right front leg, he worked more cautiously. 

"It doesn't feel like anything's broken, but she's probably got massive bruising and possible internal injuries. The pad of her foot's torn and bleeding-it looks like the toenails ripped off when she hit the ground." 

The Sheltie winced as he worked his fingers around her white stocking foot, her breathing becoming more rapid.

"If we don't get an IV going and warm her, the shock's going to kill her," he pronounced, laying her foot gently on her other leg. Opening his kit, he pulled out sterile gauze, antiseptic, and antibiotic cream. He cleaned the paw, quickly wrapped it and watched as the other EMT brought down a backboard.

They carried her to the ambulance and loaded her in. Jack handed the EMT his card and said, 

"Call me and give me the vet's name."

The rest of the midnight shift crept by as Jack quietly worried about the dog. The call never came. And there was other bad news; the suspect had evaded arrest.

The next morning-after Jack had been asleep just long enough to dream he was chasing the Mustang again, the phone rang. He fumbled with it, his fogged mind trying to remember how to answer. Finally, on the third try, he hit the talk button.

"Hello?" he said. 

Jack blinking at the clock on the dresser and wondering about the time. The digital numbers showed 9:34-but was it morning or night?

"This is Dr. Kathy Hess's office. Your dog is ready for release." Said an icy voice filled with no-nonsense authority. Jack knew of this woman, she stood 6'4", 250 lbs., red hair worn short like a man, and known to be mean as a snake! She once punched the lights out an owner of a dog, when the owner smack his dog in front of her!   

Jack couldn't believe his ears; Archie was alive? He could come home? Joy surged through Jack and his mind snapped awake-then logic took over and he knew he'd misunderstood. His breath caught as pain seared his heart, feeling as if a splintered arrow had shot through it. Archie was dead. He wasn't coming home alive, because he was buried in the back yard.

"I'm sorry; I've misunderstood," Jack said into the phone. "What did you say?"

Impatience filled this Doctor's voice. "Your dog is ready for release."

Jack grabbed the pillow and slapped it over his eyes, damming the tears.

"I don't have a dog at your hospital."  he said in a strangled voice.

Dr. Hess cleared her throat impatiently. 

"Are you Officer Jack Noel?"

"Yes."

"The EMTs gave us your number and said to call you about the dog."

Jack flung the pillow and leaped out of bed. 

"Oh, that dog! Was she badly injured?

Dr. Hess paused, Jack envisioned her suspicions as she said, 

"The dog's badly bruised, some abrasions, has a small wound over one eye and an sprained paw," Dr. Hess said, "I was told you're an Animal Control Officer? If not, I can't release her to you."

Cop attitude flooded his veins and Jack jabbed a finger in the air, as if poking Dr. Hess in the shoulder.

"That dog is a victim of a crime. I was the officer on the scene and have jurisdiction in this matter. The law requires that the dog be taken into my custody."

("My custody" )  was indeed stretching the truth, but surely the dog would heal faster at his home than at the hospital. Be-sides,  it's not the first time Jack stretched the truth. 

"I'll be down to pick her up in fifteen minutes." Jack stuffed one leg into his jeans while he hung up the phone.

When Jack got to the Eden-Evens Hospital he could hear the chaos of barks and meows at the vet's office, which usually bothered him. Normally Jack felt bad for the confused pets locked in cages, but this time he hardly noticed. When they brought the Sheltie out and she saw him, her ears perked up and her tail wagged, remembering her savior.

Jack could harden his heart against crooks and murders, con artists and thieves, but he could never manage it with kids and animals. 

(Don't even think about falling in love with this dog!",) he thought to himself. But it was too late, he was smitten anyway. As he scooped the Sheltie up, her tan, pointed muzzle pressed against his neck and a soft pink tongue slipped him a quick kiss on his cheek.

"Hi girl," he said, giving her a gentle hug.

Movement caught his eye and Jack looked over to see a huge woman sitting at a sterile looking desk and flipping a pen between her man size fingers.

"That's got to be Dr. Hess," he whispered into the Sheltie's ear. Aloud he said to the woman,

"Send the bill to the Evan's Police Department, attention Chief Archie Jackman!" 

He turned toward the door, but then, at the last minute turned back. 

"By any chance, did this dog have a collar?"

Dr. Hess focused her eyes on Jack like a vulture spotting road kill, sighed heavily, then pulled a multi-colored band off a nearby shelf and disdainfully handed it to him. Jack looked at it and a thought flashed through his mind. Leaving the hospital Jack walked into the reception area.

Dangling the collar in front of the receptionist, and ignoring her stare of irritation, as it deepened to deeper proportions, Jack said, 

"The rabies tag shows this dog was given its shots here. Please check it against your records and write down the owner's name and address for me."

These people at the hospital were so up tight! With lips pulled taut and body moving in wind-down mode, she took the collar and entered the numbers from the tag into the computer, then wrote the information on scrap paper and handed it to Jack. He looked at it, kissed the Sheltie on the head and said,

"We've nailed the sucker!"

Stepping out the door, Jack whispered sweet nothings to the dog. Snow fluttered around them and the bell of a Salvation Army Santa jingled in the distance.

"It's Christmas," Jack said. "I'll be capturing a car thief and filing several charges, including cruelty to animals. You're never going back to that guy who threw you out of the car."

Later at Jack's home, the scent of pine burning in a fireplace drifted past them, the Sheltie sniffed the air with interest. Jack stroked her soft ears and continued, 

"Maybe I'm a little blue because I don't have Archie anymore-" he stopped, took a deep breath to compose himself and looked at the dog's beautiful pointed muzzle. "But, now I have you."

The Sheltie gazed at him with her brown eyes, laid her head on his shoulder, and sighed.

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