Bobby D. Lux - Dog Duty (2 page)

The lights were darkened. There I was up on the new big screen, high def TV for my peers to see. A TV ostensibly intended for detailed viewings of grainy surveillance footage. Instead, one that found more use on Sunday afternoons in the Sergeant’s office during football season. I realized how much fur I’d shed since those early days. I was a halfway decent looking dog. I couldn’t have been more than a year and a half old when this clip was filmed. Chief Lennox, Officer Hart, and I had gone to visit the kindergarten class at Twain Elementary School for my first recorded public relations spot. Now it was being displayed as the beginning clip of my
greatest hits
collection at my retirement celebration.

According to the vet, I
was lucky to still have my leg and I would never be the same. Someday, I might be able to run again. Maybe. They rushed me into emergency surgery and repaired everything. Some repair job. Repair means back to normal. This was back to we-don’t-need-you-anymore. This was sayonara, Fritz. Thanks for the memories.

I should have been more embarrassed that this video was being shown to my sworn comrades. Not t
hat they were all watching. Most of them were typing away on their cell phones. Their sense of nostalgia seemingly matched mine.

Not too bad looki
ng up there, sure, though I was embarrassed to even make eye contact with myself. I had no on-camera experience and while it may seem easy to sit there and act natural, try doing it while being fully aware that you’re trying to seem like you’re just being yourself. It’s a real mind trap. Go ahead, try it. Act natural. I’ll be here waiting for you.

I looked more nervous on screen than I actually was thanks to my eyes anxiously darting across the room. I had to force myself to stay seated. The scent of whatever contraband the teacher had concealed in her middle drawer tugged at my attention.

“Since I’ve been sworn in as the new chief here in Grand City,” Chief Lennox said
, the star of the video, “major crime has dropped in every category including auto theft, assaults, and even cheating on homework.” Chief Lennox leaned in and winked at the students. They were instructed to laugh and some of them did. “Crime is down big time. And it’s thanks to the hard working men and women of The Grand City Police Department. But it’s also thanks to our citizens who we rely on to be our eyes and ears out there and to let us know when things are happening in their neighborhoods. So that means when you see something or someone who doesn’t look right, you pick up that phone and give us a call. And if it’s an emergency just dial 911 and we’ll be there faster than Fritz here can chase down a bad guy. And that’s pretty fast. Speaking of Fritz, he’s the newest officer on our roster and this is our way of introducing him to the citizens of our wonderful city. Come on up and say hi, kids. He’s friendly as long as you’re not a bad guy.”

A few pre-selected little kids ran up and rubbed and wiped their dirty, sticky, little hands all over my fur. One in particular kept coming in over my head even after they were all told beforehand to not touch my head or face. They pinched, pulled, and tugged at me while Chief Lennox wrapped up our promotional video.

“The children of Grand City love our police dogs,” Chief Lennox said, as he walked towards the camera, “and if I know Fritz, he loves them right back. The Grand City Police Department and our K-9 unit, it’s what keeps you safe.”

The director,
who stood behind the cameraman, waved her hands at me. When she had my attention, she softly clapped her hands at me with pleading eyes. That was my cue to end the commercial with a playful bark. It took Chief Lennox six tries to get his speech right. I nailed the bark on the first take.

The lights in the Elk’s Lodge came up just long enough for Chief Lennox, the evening’s emcee, to switch tapes. The VCR popped and cracked and the lights lowered once more. I looked away from the screen up to the ceiling. The string holding the middle section of my retirement banner had given way at some point during the previous video. The banner now draped in a depressed U-shape.

A cheer came from the lodge full of officers when the fa
miliar beat and opening “Huh!” from the “Cops” theme song charged through the speakers. It was the
Grand City
episode featuring my segment with Officer Hart. 

Fade in on Officer Ha
rt behind the wheel as we patrolled north bound on Honor Drive. The camera whipped around to me in the back. I was all business now. No kids and no scripts for miles.

“A lot of people don’t respect
these dogs,” Officer Hart said, too loud to the camera as he balanced his attention on the road and the camera. As I looked up at that screen and heard what Officer Hart had to say, I really wanted to smile and let my tongue hang out, but I wouldn’t. If I smiled it meant that I accepted what they were doing to me. Not a chance. They decided that my days of riding in a squad car were over. Some piece of metallic tape playing in a machine was nothing to feel happy about. “Not just the criminals, but even some officers who think that dogs like Fritz are a prop or something, but not me. He’s my partner. He’s got my back, and I have his. People need to understand just how valuable these officers are. They can out run, out jump, out last, and sometimes, most of the time really, they can out think just about any suspect we’re after. They get to places we can’t and have no fear. And that’s just the run of the mill K-9. Now Fritz back there-”

He went on for a bit more about me. I’m uncomfortable relaying word-for-word how good he thought I used to be.

“Grand City units,” a dispatcher said, through the radio, “be advised on a confirmed stolen vehicle last scene travelling south bound on Honor past Marbush. Red, ninety-nine Ford pickup plate similar to four, India, seven, eight, five, one, three. Driver is a male white, thirties, possibly on meth.”

“Here we go,” Officer Hart said
, as he grabbed his radio and looked to the camera. “This is K32, we’re ninety-seven the area. We’ll be checking south bound.”

No sooner did he tell me to keep my eyes peeled, did the stolen truck zoom by us on the other side of the street. Officer Hart spun the wheel hard and the cameraman fell back into the door. It made for a hell of a shot.
While he cranked the wheel, Officer Hart uttered a few bleep worthy words that earned laughs from the audience in the lodge. We’ve all been there. 

“K32,” Officer Hart said
, “I have visual on the vehicle, in pursuit south bound Honor approaching Highwater.” The lights, and unfortunately, the sirens went on. Contrary to popular belief, not all stolen car suspects took you on chases that spanned hours and hours and get news choppers flying above you. More often, they give up and pull over like this guy in the truck did. Officer Hart rolled down my window. “We’re stopped with the suspect vehicle on Honor, just north of Hightower. I have one at gunpoint.”

“K32, ten four.
One at gun point.”

Two hands came out from the driver’s window with the fingers spread out. Officer Hart exited the vehicle with his gun drawn towards the truck.
             

“Stay behind my car,” Officer Hart
said, to the cameraman. “You, in the truck, keep both your hands out where I can see them. Now reach down and open the door from the outside. Slowly!”

“Don’t shoot me,” the driver
said, slurring from inside the truck.

“Shut up and do what I say. Tell him you’re here too, Fritz. Speak.”

I barked and snarled. They were always more scared of me than they were of a bullet. Bullets missed sometimes. I never did.

“Is that a dog?
” the driver said. “Okay, I’m coming out. I’m coming out. Keep the dog away from me.”

He opened the door and slowly got out with his hands up. He froze when he saw me and the gun staring him down.

“Get down on your stomach, face down, legs spread apart, hands behind your head!” The driver obeyed without a fight. “K32, I have the driver proned out.”

Maybe it was the cameras, maybe it was fear, the meth, just plain stupidity, or a combination of all four, but suddenly the suspect hopped to his feet and made a run for it
into oncoming traffic. Did he think he was going to get away? From us? From me? Officer Hart couldn’t safely get after him and was yelling foot pursuit into his radio. He didn’t have a clean shot on the suspect. I’d seen enough of this. I leapt out of the car and was across four lanes of highway like it was nothing. The cameraman cared not for his well-being and ran after me, forcing cars to slam on their brakes. By the time he caught up to me, I had the car thief face down on the center divider screaming in tears. Officer Hart pulled me off the guy and cuffed him.

Jump cut to us stuffing the crook in the back of another squad car.
What didn’t make it to the final cut:

“I didn’t get a good shot of the bite,” the cameraman said,
as he panted. “I was running after him and the camera was too shaky. That dog’s fast. Anyway, can we let this guy go and let Fritz get him again?”

“What?!” the cuffed man cried.

“A lot of guys will let us do that if we missed the shot,” the cameraman said. “We don’t have to, you know. Just if you want to make it more realistic looking, we can get a better shot, that’s all I’m saying. Tell him to take another bite at least. Let’s see if we can get the guy shaking or screaming real good before we take him in. This is about making people at home scared to mess with you guys. Come on, Fritz. Get some.”

“I’m going to pretend like I didn’t hear you say that,” Officer Hart said.
             

“I would’ve ripped him up,” Nitro said, sitting next to me back at the lodge. “Look at you. The biggest show in the industry and you’re just standing there growling like some Chihuahua chasing a stuffed toy.”

“There was no need to rip him up,” I said. “He was detained. Look how out of breath he was already. I didn’t need to do anything.”

“Who said anything about
needing to
, Fritz? All I’m saying is that when I’m on that show, you better believe that the first chance I have to use full force, I will be all over that like Nitro on a car thief. Get my drift?”

“Yeah. I get your-”

“That’s a nationwide show, pops. You could’ve been the baddest dog in law enforcement. Instead, you look like a domesticated guard dog. Shame.”

“I’ve used full force when the situation called for it and you know it.”

“Yeah, like the other night? How’s that leg? You need a walker? Do we need to do a welfare check on you?”

My blood bubbled. The fur on the back of my neck stood at attention. My tail thumped and my nails gripped into the tile floor. A rookie fresh out of the academy with the pre-packaged nerve to lecture me about police work. Me? The dog who pulled back-to-back twenty hour days when this pup was still climbing through a litter to get some attention from mommy.

Being a cop is the highest calling a canine can seek. I know a few mutts who are into the whole Hollywood thing. You’d never catch me under the bright lights complaining about the catering. Not me. I was a cop and that suited me fine. I was happy with where I was and where I’d been. I had no want nor need to be anything more than what I was; I had everything I wanted and wanted everything I had.

The clip finally ended with us processing the car thief back at the station, which thankfully brought an end to the video portion of the evening. Chief Lennox reassumed his position as the center of attention.

“Well, Fritz, it looks like the years have been kinder to some of us than others,” Chief Lennox said. “You’ve earned your gray, my friend. Me, I sat at a desk and waited for mine. And when the day comes that they invent a proper dye that makes hair look natural without looking, and I quote you out there, Sgt. Lewis, yeah, I see you sitting out there, ‘like you spray-painted your head with badger color,’ well that’ll be the day that I erase my gray hair for good. But Fritz here, he’s earned his. It distinguishes him, and he wears it well. We’re going to miss you around here, Fritz. So on behalf of the entire Grand City Police Department, I want to wish you a happy, healthy, and very long retirement full of relaxation.”

Chief Lennox led a surprisingly decent applause in my
tribute. That applause taunted me like steady rain on a day off. Slap, slap, slap on the concrete and across the face. Guess what, pal? You don’t have a say in where you’re going today.

I looked up at a quartet of faces not shouting out at me. Not calling my name. Not showing any emotion whatsoever beyond a startled clam. Just four sterile faces staring off into the great big whatever. The four Elks heads mounted up
on the wall directly across from and above me, overlooking the hall. They too had seen much better days.

“Time for s
ome new blood,” Nitro said, slicing through the ovation. “It’s been that way for a long time around here too.”

“You think there’s room for one more up there?” I said.

“Stop embarrassing yourself,” Nitro said. “You’re making me uncomfortable with all this boo-hoo nonsense. How about you do us all a favor and take it like a real dog, will ya?”