No one likes to be suspected of wrongdoing – especially before dawn – but I had an opportunity to contemplate this one morning when I experienced a minor run in with the police.
My dog and I are early morning runners. Most mornings, we circle the neighborhood, cover two cul de sacs, then head up the hill toward home. If we get out early enough, we might even hit the third cul de sac at the bottom of the hill, but this one is tricky because there are a lot of dogs on that block and by 5:45AM, many of them are out on their front lawns to do their “business.”
This isn’t usually a problem. Most dogs just bark a good-natured “hello” to Sparky and I as we casually jog by. However, two new dogs recently arrived on that block. In the early morning darkness, I couldn’t determine exactly what breed they were, but they appeared to be small, white and fluffy. They were also abnormally and unnaturally loud for such diminutive creatures.
They didn’t just bark when they saw Sparky. They had fits of complete canine hysteria. Although leashed, they jumped, twisted, spun and barked at a decibel level that should be illegal before nine am. The owner quickly tried to drag the hyper, hysterical creatures into his house, but he was several houses and several minutes away and by the time he got them through his front door, the dogs had made such a ruckus they woke up the entire neighborhood with their frenzied barking and every dog on the block, indoors and out, had joined the barkfest.
Unfortunately, someone who heard the dog riot on the block must have thought that a prowler was on the loose and called the police.
When Sparky and I started heading up the hill toward home, a police car peeled around the corner presumably looking for someone suspicious – notably, me. Catching sight of me in the glare of the headlights, the police car braked and slowly drove past, probably so the officer behind the wheel could get a better look at me to make sure my dog and I posed no urgent threat to the neighborhood.
If he was looking for a skulking, ski-masked bandit making off with a bag of pilfered jewels, he was either relieved or disappointed to see a middle-aged woman in a blue sweatsuit clutching a plastic bag filled with dog poop as she walked her dog up the hill.
It’s comforting to live in a neighborhood with a strong and active Neighborhood Watch, and I’m grateful that the local police respond with lightning speed to the calls of its citizens.
But the plastic bag I was carrying… I swear I didn’t steal that.
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