Have you ever seen so many Canadians shout out their pride? I haven’t – it was great! So here’s a little bit of good news to help us recover from the patriotic hangover – Hondo came home today.
After being hospitalized for more than a week, Hondo was given what the doctors are calling a ‘day pass’, and he came home this afternoon. He still has to go back to the vet everyday for treatment but this is the small step forward we have been waiting for. The doctors are optimistic about his recovery and his return to duty, and we are all hoping he continues to improve.
Hondo was diagnosed with Immune Mediated Hemolytic Anemia (IMHA) , a life-threatening disease where the immune system destroys the body’s own red blood cells. This disease can be triggered by an underlying cause (cancer, lupus etc) or it can occur for no reason. The barrage of tests Hondo was submitted to have shown there is no underlying cause in his case – thank goodness for small miracles. That said, depending on the case mortality for this disease can run very high so we are not in the clear yet even though we are headed that way.
While he still has a long recovery before him, Hondo has been showing some of his old self – his ears perked up at the sound of a passing siren, he sat at the front door looking out through the sidelight as I got groceries out of the truck, and his tail went into helicopter spins when the kids came home from school.
The excitement of coming home has tired him out and he’s now fast sleep, which is a good thing. He’s going to need all the rest he can get.
Hondo came to our department in the summer of 2005, a few months before we were to start official training. In the time between his arrival and the start of the training class, Hondo and I got to know one another.
At the time, I was assigned to Patrol and Hondo spent several shifts inside his crate which had been stuffed into the back seat of my squad car. When it was slow or time for a break, I took him out to practice our sits/stays/recalls.
One thing we really had to work on at the start was the recall, or the “Hey! Get back here!” and it didn’t help that all of Hondo’s commands were in Czech. Apparently, my pronunciation of the Czech language was horrible because Hondo would totally ignore me as he went in the opposite direction to sniff trees, chase squirrels etc.
To remedy this, I attached a 50 ft leash to Hondo’s collar. When he retrieved a thrown toy, I would hold the end of the leash and gently pull him back towards me giving him the English command. When he got back to my side I was full of praise, and he quickly figured out that when I called, “Here!” it meant he was to return to me.
One night I scouted out a good place to work on our recall and selected the grass field in front of an elementary school. You know the buildings – the ones that are three story brick structures with metal fire escapes up the sides, old growth evergreens sprinkled about the yard, lots of light? It was the perfect backdrop for our training, which went something like this:
- hook 50 ft leash to Hondo’s collar
- have Hondo remain in a sit at my side, with his attention drawn to the toy I was preparing to throw
- throw the toy
- give Hondo the command to fetch the toy
- watch as Hondo breaks into a sprint
- look down to see a loop of the 50ft leash wrapped around my left ankle
- try to free my foot from the rapidly disappearing length of leash
- realize I was not going to be quick enough and brace myself for impact
- have my left leg snap up and forward
- hop like mad on my right foot to try and stay upright
- fail miserably at one-legged hopping
- crash to the ground, flat on my back
- get skidded across the grass for about 6 ft
- have my dog come back to me, drop the toy on my head and sniff my face as if to ask what the heck I was doing lying down on the job
I started laughing, feeling like a complete idiot, but my guffaw must have sounded a bit winded as a tentative voice floated out over the night air from the direction of the fire escape, “Are you okay?”
Well, you would have though someone had stuck me with a hot poker. I sucked in a gasp, stopped laughing and looked around.
“We’re up here,” a second voice called from the direction of the fire escape.
Up near the top of the metal stairs were two teenagers, sitting side by side and watching the three-ring circus act unfolding before them. They waved when I spotted them. Oh dear. I waved back and let out another laugh as I picked myself up and untangled the leash from my leg.
“I’m fine, nothing hurt but my pride,” I called back, “It’s okay to laugh, you know, that must have looked pretty funny.”
“Yes, it did,” one of them said. “Can you do that again?”
One aspect of this job that often comes as a surprise to the family and loved ones of police officers is the change that overcomes their officers in the hours leading up to the start of shift. No, the officers do not go through a science fiction style metamorphosis; instead officers likely exhibit subtle and sometimes not so subtle changes in personality.
My hubby calls it the ‘Ha Ha Factor’, as in I have none when I’m getting my game face on.
I’ve already mentioned in previous posts about preparing for this job. It is easy to tell if you are physically able to this job, because you’re either going to pass the physical test or not. You’re either fit enough to chase after a suspect and take him into custody, or you’re not. If you’re not, train harder and be prepared to make the permanent life style changes required. It’s pretty simple.
Mental preparation is different. You have to ask yourself several questions about your readiness and willingness to take action if called upon, but it’s even more involved than that.
Every day, BEFORE you leave your house to go to work, you should be mentally prepared. In much the same way an athlete psyches themselves up before a big game, you should be going through the same ritual. Not to be overly dramatic (okay, maybe I mean to), but you have to be in top mental condition because every time you put a uniform on you are making yourself a target for those who despise law enforcement. You need to be ever alert, ever watchful, and constantly aware of your surroundings. You need to find a balance and not become paranoid. You need to go home to your family at the end of your shift.
To illustrate this point I’ll use myself as an example and delve a bit deeper into the ‘Ha Ha Factor’.
When I’m working night shift I usually have the house to myself during the day. I’m able to go through my pre-work ritual – grocery shopping, prepare meals, have a nap, get up, have coffee, go for a work out, take a shower, eat breakfast while the family eats dinner, go to work. I’ve a very set routine and have been going through this ritual for years.
But on the occasions where hubby is around during the day he notices a big difference in my personality. He says I’m more serious, more focused and less likely to engage in conversation. He says I have no sense of ‘Ha Ha’ about anything. It’s not that I’m miserable, cranky, or being a you-know-what, it’s just that my ‘Ha Ha’ has taken leave in favour of my ’Game Face’.
At first, many years ago, hubby thought I was snubbing him and he got upset. I was a bit flabbergasted as nothing was further from the truth, and during the resulting discussion we came to a few conclusions:
- Being a police officer requires mental alertness at all hours of the day
- A police officer needs to go through the mental ‘What-if’s’ on a regular basis
- A police officer needs to ‘get in the game’ long before it’s time to put on the uniform and get in the squad car
- Sleep is NOT over rated
- A sleepy officer is not an alert officer
- An officer who is not alert is at a higher risk of getting hurt (for a multitude of reasons)
- The family of an officer should recognize that the officer needs sleep and time to decompress
- The officer needs to realize his/her family also needs attention, love, and understanding
In short, if an officer does not mentally prepare for the shift they may not come home from it.
When I put it like that, hubby got it.
Now, hubby understands my aloofness before a shift isn’t personal, it’s a necessity. He understands that in my mind, I am already hunting for the bad guy, already out-thinking the bad guy, already running though the possible scenarios of the upcoming twelve hours. He knows my well-being counts on it, and he has chosen to understand it and accept it. For that, I love him dearly.
It can’t be easy being married to a cop.
Today was another rough day. After seeing a bit of improvement in him yesterday, Hondo took a step or two backwards this morning.
He’s now been admitted to the Animal Emergency Clinic. The staff have been amazing and very understanding – I’m sure they are used to dealing with distraught pet owners on a regular basis. If memory serves me correct, I fell into that category this afternoon.
Thank you for all the emails, phone calls and well-wishes for Hondo’s speedy recovery. On an inside note, it’s a real show of camaraderie when my fellow handlers check in on Hondo when I’m not there and then call to let me know how he’s doing.
All of your support is truly helpful and is very much appreciated. Thank you.
I’ll make sure to pass on the belly-rubs to Hondo for when he is feeling better.
Our calendar was full to the end of the month with regular shifts, overtime shifts and training.
Now, instead of working in uniform, I’m working with the veterinarian to ensure Hondo recovers from a sudden, nasty infection and the resulting complications. It’s a far more difficult job than the one I’m used to as I’ve not a medical bone in my body, but the excellent veterinary care combined with the love and nurturing my family and I are providing are sure to ease Hondo’s recovery.
It’s a hard thing, though, to see your partner in pain and to see the confusion in his eyes. It’s heartbreaking when your normally stoic dog whimpers and cries softly when he thinks no one is looking.
These last couple of days have been really hard.
On both of us.
And I found myself right smack-dab in the middle of Vancouver.
As I’m working nearly every day until the end of the month, we figured today was the day to take the kids downtown to experience the Olympic ambiance. Tickets to sporting events were not in our plan (nor in our budget), but after spending the last few nights driving around the downtown core I knew there was still a lot for us to experience. We left early to beat the crowds but apparently that wasn’t a novel idea as we rubbed elbows with thousands.
We started with the Olympic Flame. The last time I was at the new Convention Center I marvelled at the beautiful structure but today I was a bit put off by the security fencing. Knowing there was a high chain-link fence enclosing the flame to protect it against vandals (the fencing story had been top news) I was expecting to only get within 30-50 feet of it. Imagine my surprise when we discovered the fencing was erected almost a full city block from the base of the flame!
Oh well – improvise, adapt, overcome. I managed to get the lense of my new camera between the chain-links, and snapped the following photo:
Olympic Flame
Our travels took us down Robson Street where the zinging of steel cables alerted us to the Zip-Line riders overhead. Zooming from one side of Robson Square to the other, high in the air and above the crowds, the riders screamed, squealed and yahoo’d themselves into the hearts of many. It looked like a blast, but the 1.5 hr wait was enough of a deterrent so we carried on.
We stopped at the Irish House (of course). All weekend long this place has absolutely rocked so I really wanted to see what all the fuss was about. Because we were early in the day the kids were allowed in, and they were exposed to their first bit of Celtic music. Very cool. We could have stayed there all day/night.
After extracting ourselves from the pull of the Irish we wound our way through Yaletown, a part of Vancouver I love. Even though it is very trendy, the old buildings are exquisite with breath taking architecture at every turn. The streets were packed with people, all of whom were in great spirit and displaying the colours of their countries.
Yaletown
And really, it isn’t a visit to downtown Vancouver unless there is hockey involved, the proof of which were barricades set up on one street to allow for a street hockey game.
Grown men with road hockey sticks, orange pucks/balls, and a lot of gusto were a crowd pleaser. It was awesome! We stayed and watched until the game was over, and even though I’m still unsure as to who won, it did not matter. The sportsmanship, camaraderie and great atmosphere were everything Vancouver. The best part of the game? When players or a member of the crowd yelled, “CAR!” and they scooted the net off to the side to allow the vehicle passage. It was quite nostalgic.
Street Hockey in Yaletown
All in all it was a great day. The only thing remotely police-related about this blog-post is that even though I saw dozens of police officers and stopped and talked to several, I saw no protesters.
Can you say hallelujah!
The next two weeks are going to be very busy.
In all honesty, I’m a little worried about keeping everything balanced with a work schedule that includes only a couple of days off scattered through the rest of this month. At least I have a couple of days off – many of my co-workers are working straight through. The rest of this month is going to be a long haul, not just for officers and all others involved in various aspects of the Olympic Games but for their families as well.
For everyone there will need be to an added focus on their personal well being. Eat properly, make a point of exercising, get as much as sleep as humanly possible (I suspect sleep will be catch-as-catch-can), put time aside for recuperation, and enjoy the Olympics and all they are bringing to Vancouver. Yes, that does mean seeing some of the events and enjoying the festivities as well.
I’ll continue to post when I can, but for now I’m preparing for what the following days are going to bring.
Go Canada Go!
I’ve spent the last few weeks trying to figure out in which direction to take this blog.
As readership has grown I’ve felt the need to ensure I’m giving you your times worth when it comes to you popping by for a read. If you are anything like me then your time is a valuable commodity and you are careful in your selection of what to read, what to comment on, what to push to the forefront of importance and what to put on your no-read list.
I, for one, demand great writing when I’m reading someone else’s work, be that work a novel, a magazine article, a newspaper column, a short story or a business proposal. For all the drivel out there, I am humbled when I take in the magic a few select writers have laid down on the page. Everyone has a story to share, but when you get right down to it, some people are simply better storytellers. When touched by such writing I am inspired to try and create my own style, one that educates, motivates, and changes the way people think about law enforcement.
So when I look back at my fifteen years of policing I can not help but realize I am a very different person from the young woman sworn in by Chief Constable Ray Canuel in 1995. Then I was hopeful, my dreams just coming to fruition, my future ahead of me.
Now, even though still hopeful, I have seen humanity at its worst and at its best. I have witnessed greatness and witnessed death. Delirious joy and devastating grief are the extremes, but given the nature of policing the latter is more common than the former. My comrades are the brothers and sisters I never had and I hold them all dear, even the ones I have never met. To be a police officer is to be bonded by the uniform; a uniform that crosses gender, race and religion.
The lessons learned have been hard, sometimes impossibly so, but in the end I am a better person and a better officer because of them. In the end I have succeeded. I am ‘living my dream’.
And those points bring me to this point and the question of where this blog is headed.
Police officers and those who support them make up a large percentage of this blog’s daily readers. I know because of two reasons – the number of comments left on this blog do not directly reflect the number of readers. Why? Because police officers and those who support them are typically the ’silent majority’, the ones who have very strong beliefs but are comfortable enough with themselves and their beliefs to simply process information without having to voice their own opinion on the topic.
I used to be that way as well, if you can believe it, but I finally realized it was okay to have my say and be true to myself. Much the same can be said of fellow police bloggers (see the blog roll to the right of this column) as they are on a similar journey of telling what has so long been secreted behind blue lines. Not everyone agrees with what we say, or even the fact that we say it, and that’s okay too. Differences in opinion are what make this world so spicy and full of life.
So, in trying to find my way, I am asking for some guidance from you, the reader.
Later in the week I will put up a poll (if I can figure out how to do so), where I will ask you what you would like to see more of and less of. This blog is for you and I’d like to know what it is you really want to know.
Keep in mind that even though this blog is my opinion and not that of my department or police board, I will not talk about such things as surveillance, current projects, or cases currently before the courts. To do so would put other officers in harms way, would jeopardize cases and trials, and would, in essence, be career suicide.
Do you want more anecdotes? More facts? More stats?
Or less of these things?
Is there any topic you would like to see addressed? If so, let me know via comment or email and I will add it to the poll for the end of the week.
And remember – comments can be left anonymously – even I won’t know who you are, only that you are FINALLY leaving the rank of blog-lurker. If need be, sign up for a gmail (Google) email account with some crazy/fake username to hide your real identity.
Let me know what you want to hear!
Many officers I know have had the following experience when attending a function where the officer does not know many of the attendees. After introductions are made and talk turns to what everyone does for a living, conversations go something like this:
Stranger: “So, what is it that you do for work?”
Officer: “I work for the City of Vancouver.”
Stranger: “Oh really? In which department?”
Officer: “The police department.”
Stranger: “Where in the department do you work?”
Officer: “I work in patrol/homicide/robbery/dog squad/emergency response team.”
Here is where the conversation can take a turn. The person asking the questions either beats feet in the other direction (which is usually a clue they have something to hide) or they empty a deluge of policing questions to the exclusion of all other topics.
Stranger: “Oh, that’s so fascinating! So tell me, do you know so-and-so? What’s it like to investigate a murder? Do bank robbers really wear masks? Do the police dogs come home with you? Have you ever had to shoot anyone?”
Like most officers, I really do not mind answering these questions (thus, the blog). But when all the person wants to do is find out what it’s like to stake out a house, or if the CSI-Hollywood theory on salient fingerprints is really accurate, or how heavy the tactical vests are, it can become a bit overwhelming. Officers are adept at changing the topic so when the talk becomes too heavily focused on police work, officers usually get the other person talking about fishing/hockey/football/shopping etc.
I’ve often been tempted to tell people that I do something completely different for a living, if only to see if their reaction to my ‘profession’ is as noticable as it is when I say I’m a police officer.
What do you think?
I recently bumped into a colleague I hadn’t seen in a while and the first thing I noticed was the sprinkling of grey through the hair at his temples. At least with men a little snow adds a touch of sophistication. Most women I know freak out when the first grey hairs appear, myself included.
It got me to thinking about our police dogs and how one of our years equals seven of theirs. By using human-to-dog-age-calculations PD Hondo and I are the same age, at least until March when my four legged partner jumps cleanly into the middle-age category.
If you call lifting Hondo out of the back of my pick up truck and placing him gently on the ground ‘babying’, then my husband notices that I baby the 80+ lb German Shepherd to no end. I’ve stopped running with Hondo, instead opting for sessions of speed walking (which look ridiculous – I can tell by the lay of Hondo’s ears he doesn’t want to be seen with me as I sashay my way down the street) or fetching his toy from the water at a nearby beach to ease the stress on his joints while maintaining his cardio. His diet includes supplements to keep him fit and limber, and I would forgo any anti-aging regime for myself if I could find a fountain of youth for my dog.
When taking his photo I try to ensure Hondo’s tongue is hanging out in a doggy smile because then you don’t notice the grey in his once jet-black muzzle. His clear brown eyes and youthful exhuberance are a reassurance, but I know the day is quick approaching when he will stall, just a tiny bit, when trying to stand up from his bed in front of the fireplace. My eyes watch for this, even as I chide myself for being a pessimistic realist.
Some of you have asked how Hondo is doing, and I’m here to tell you he is doing very well. He is still young(ish), his drive for work is ever increasing and our bond is one that simply terrifies me. How is that such creatures, who give willingly of themselves even when it means giving their lives for ours if the call of duty requires it, are only with us for such a short time?
My father always said I was forever in a rush to get to my ‘destination’. He constantly reminded me to slow down and enjoy the journey for fear I would one day look back and realize I had missed it all.
Well dad, I’m enjoying the journey. To slow the speed of my time with Hondo is an impossible feat. Instead, I try to imprint every nuance of it so the memories may carry me through when this journey is done.
