I was working as a patrol officer for the Bakersfield Police at the time, and I was investigating a silent burglar alarm at a residence in an upscale neighborhood. When I arrived at the house, I could hear multiple large dogs barking in the back yard. "Oh great", I thought. I definitely wasn't going to try to go back there. While I was waiting for dispatch to give me an ETA on the owners, a neighbor from across the street approached me. He explained that he was good friends with the owner of the house, and said that he had already gone into the back yard to check things out. He was on friendly terms with the German Shepherd dogs that I heard barking, and he felt the home was secure. I told him I still needed to wait for either the owners or someone from the alarm company to ensure the home hadn't been burglarized. I had no sooner explained my intent to him when he suddenly went to the backyard gate and opened it, apparently wanting me to follow him into the rear yard. Out came two full-grown, snarling German Shepherds, and they charged me.
I also happened to own a German Shepherd named Turbo, and being familiar with his moods and mannerisms, I was quite sure that these two doggies weren't playing. It all happened so fast that I didn't have time to draw my 9 mm for protection. I was able to pull my baton out of it's belt ring and I figured I was going to have to use it on these dogs. They both stopped only a couple of feet from me. They were barking ferociously, and the fur on their backs was standing up straight. Not a good omen for me. Then the neighbor started berating me and told me that I should put the baton away because it was just making the dogs angrier. That's about the same mentality our government had which helped lead to our defeat in Viet Nam. I couldn't believe it. I ordered this clown to get control of the dogs and put them back into their yard, and he continued to argue with me about my baton. The dogs slowly began to circle back towards the neighbor who was standing on the opposite side of the driveway, but they were still agitated. I put my baton back into the ring, pulled my pistol from it's holster, and repeated my order to get rid of the dogs or I may have to shoot them if they charged me again. More arguing. And that's when the female Shepherd came at me. And I shot her. And she pissed and bled and yelped and stumbled around in circles. The male Shepherd must have run back into it's yard because I never saw or heard it again.
The neighbor began screaming at me and making the usual "trigger happy cop" accusations, but fortunately, the owner of the home arrived a few minutes later and calmed him down. He was very apologetic about his well-meaning, but stupid neighbor. The happy news is that the Shepherd survived the gunshot to it's neck without any major ill effects and made a full recovery. The alarm was false, as most of them are. The shooting was ruled justifiable and I lived happily ever after. Well, not quite. This is where it gets a little weird.
Fast forward about two years. I had divorced my first wife and I was casually dating a woman I had met. During a dinner date at my house one evening, she mentioned that her boss owned a female German Shepherd and that he was considering breeding some Shepherd puppies. As I mentioned earlier, my dog Turbo was a pure-bred, papered German Shepherd, and he was gorgeous. Bingo....it was a potential match made in doggie heaven. My lady friend talked to her boss about the possibilities the next day, and he agreed to bring the dog to my home and leave her with me to see if our dogs could start a family. A few days later, he arrived with his dog, and I immediately sensed I had met him somewhere before. I sure had. It was in the front yard of his home a couple years earlier while he was trying to calm down his asshole neighbor who almost got me attacked by two German Shepherds that didn't even belong to him. That's right. I was about to welcome into my yard the dog that I had to shoot at that burglar alarm call. Astronomical odds or canine Karma?
When the initial surprise of the situation wore off, my girlfriend's boss left the dog with me and I put her into my back yard with Turbo. Here's the thing though. Breeding dogs isn't as easy as it might seem on the surface. I'm not really sure why, but that female wouldn't let Turbo near her for three days. And he really tried his little heart out. He exhausted himself. It was pathetic. I'm really glad that I wasn't living vicariously through my dog. I just wanted to communicate to him somehow that "Hey man, she's no good for you anyway. She's a tramp, a slut, a whore. You don't know where this bitch has been. She's got a scar on neck from a bullet wound for cryin' out loud! There are plenty of fish in the sea, Turbo. You'll get over this. I'll help you. That's what buddies do for each other." Only Turbo didn't understand. Probably because I didn't think it in German. And while I was at work on day four, the female escaped the confines of my yard and ran away....with Turbo right on her tail. Luckily, I was able to get the dogs back after chasing them around my neighborhood in my patrol car while on-duty.
No comments:
Post a Comment