Damn Dogs, A Short Story

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Christopher at Toys r Us

September 09, 2013

Theft doesn’t sound like a big deal to some. But stealing is stealing and when you steal a laptop from a store, you just committed a crime, in the eyes of the law. So when I saw the thief running across the street holding his newly stolen tablet while crossing directly in front of my police car, I gave chase towards the shopper who decided he would make his own 5 finger discount.

“STOP, Police!” I shouted.

You would think that the presence of my police car with the big letters that spelled out the word: POLICE across the side doors of the vehicles body, would cause him to give pause but fight or flight took over, so he ran!

Or maybe my police uniform with it’s shiny badge and fancy police patches that adorn each shoulder which identifies me as a cop, would have been enough to make him stop right there, in his tracks. But my presence only acted as a repellent forcing him away from me.

And you’d think being the police officer that caused him to turn away from his capture, would be enough to charge him with the crime of resisting arrest, however Florida statutes as written in the law says it isn’t enough to give him that charge unless:

An officer must verbally announce himself to the bad guy or girl who is fleeing from such officer they are “the police and are under arrest” and they are aware of your intentions to affect that arrest.

So, that being written, I make “STOP! Police” is an automatic in my vernacular.

No matter how hard and loud I shouted from the top of my lungs for the bad guy to stop, it wouldn’t be enough to stop this guy as he went fleeing through a near by neighborhood. I knew I was going to either chase him or simply announce on the police radio, “He got away.”

I chose to run.

I ran in traffic. Leaving my police car in the turning lane and crossed the busy street that intersected with other streets. I avoided people on bikes and stepped passed the old man that has been selling the same package of oranges that he had when I last saw him, 3 hours earlier.

I skidded across puddles and tripped on cracks. I screamed for him to “stop!” so I could at least catch my breath. And then resume our chase again. But there wasn’t going to be any time outs this day even though he fled through the football field and past the middle school. I had no choice but to do my best to keep up. I’ve come too far now to just give up.

He was able to climb a fence with such ease I thought that he was not of this earth. When it was my turn to climb the fence I was startled by a loud clanking sound of metal crashing against itself along the galvanized steel. My guy threw a trashcan towards my direction and I watched it land just below my knees, the fence acting as a barrier. I scaled the side, watching him run to the front of a house from the corner of my eye. I knew I was getting close. I just needed to get on the other side.

I attempted to land both feet on the ground with all the grace of an Olympic gymnast until I landed my left foot on the ground without the right one. There would be no solid footing today. No 10’s from the Swedish judges or 9’s from the Brits. I would be left staring at my foot as it dangled after being caught on the edge of the gate. My left legs acting like a kickstand holding up the rest of my body from toppling over.

I tried in vein to unhook the bottom of my pant leg that snagged itself on the V section of the fence that sticks up ever so slightly over the support pole. But it wouldn’t budge. I had no leverage. I kept looking over my shoulder worried my not so friendly friend would reappear to throw something else at me.

Feeling vulnerable, I did what I had to do and grabbed my ankle with both hands and pulled my leg with all my might until the tear in my pant leg ran all the way up my pants separating by my crouch and letting me loose flinging me to the ground. I was free to pursue once again!

I leapt to my feet with a lot of flare, just happy to be free. Even though my leg was exposed for the entire world to see. I didn’t care though I wasn’t about to stop now, my white leg would not be the signal of defeat! So I dug the toes of my shoes into the ground and sprang into action.

I cleared the backyard and through an open wooden gate. I really thought he had escaped. But to my surprise my bad guy was sitting on a chair waiting for me to come his way. Was he going to hurt me? Did he want to fight? What was he doing sitting there so peacefully?

“Stop,” I said, “police your under arrest.”

“No problem,” he replied, “ I can’t run anymore.”

“Is that why you stopped,” I asked.

“Not really,” he said, “when I jumped the fence I was bit by a dog. I threw the trashcan at him to distract him. He ran away when I opened the gate. I have a big bite on my ass.”

I looked down and saw blood dripping from his pants, down the seat of the chair and pooling up on the concrete below.

“What happened to you,” he asked looking at my ripped pant leg.

“Oh,” I said, “damn dogs.”

Published on Spetember 9th, 2013

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The Adventures of Captain Imperfecto/Born Again by Christopher P. Fusaro is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.

Based on a work at christopherfusaro.blogspot.com.

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