Sheila Saves the Day

Someone tried to force their way into a house down the street early this week. Big event. All the dogs in the neighborhood were worked up over it. 

The husband, a cop, had left for work. The wife was about ready to leave, to take the boy to school, and get herself to work. The doorbell rang. She answered it to a guy in a tux. A limo was
parked at the curb. She immediately could tell he was hopped up on something.

He said, "Where's your asshole husband?"

they argued a bit, then she tried to slam the door. He stopped her and shoved his way in. She
ran toward the back of the house, where the boy was, and a pistol. She was scared, as anyone would be.

There are 4 in that family. The dad, mom, boy, and Sheila. Sheila is a retired police dog, german shepherd, 95 pounds. That's big, even for a shepherd. She was sleeping on her mattress, in the corner of the main room, as all of this was going down. She knew the guy was bad news the minute the door opened, and growled to voice her opinion. The woman, while at the door, kept
giving Sheila the "Stay" command. So, Sheila stayed. But, when the guy forced his way in and the woman was running toward the back of the house, she gave the release command: "Attack!"

Sheila said that in all he years as a police dog she had never had to really mess anyone up before. Usually, a show of teeth and a convincing bark was all it took. "Oh, I've bit perps before," she told me. "But, always I was called off or hauled off before I could really get a
taste." No this time. Sheila laid into the guy. 

As trained, she got behind him and got hold of his calf. He screamed and headed for the
door, dragging Sheila. She let him go at the door, and watched him limp to the limo, dragging his ruined leg. "I almost tore the whole calf off," she told me. "It was hanging on at the top by a thread."

Cops were there in no time. Sheila doesn't know what the guy wanted with the husband. "Probably someone angry at getting arrested," she said.

She said, "You know, that was the first time that I have really gotten a good taste of human blood. I mean sunk my teeth and gotten a real good taste of it." I asked her what she thought of it.

"You know," she said, her muzzle and brow congested in thought, "I've tasted blood before, you know, licked the wounds of handlers, family, friends. But, this was different. It tasted . . . tasted like, I don't know, like foe. Foe and friend taste very different."

I nodded. I went to see Sheila in dog form. I spent 2 hours with her. That's how I got the story details. She was amazingly calm. She is on our pack's watch list, for potential recruits. She does not know that. Yet. The only problem is that she might be too old. 

I spent the rest of that day spreading the story to the rest of the dogs in this 3-subdivision area. A chihuahua on Grant Street was particularly ecstatic. "This calls for a fiesta!" he kept barking, over and over. The problem with that is it is very hard to get a bunch of dogs together for a party. Bu, we'll see.

For now, Sheila is the neighborhood dog hero.

Chester
chester.weredog@gmail.com