Here doggie!

One of the little good deeds it comes my way to do every so often happened today. Out in the leafy suburbs a man in his late 70’s or early 80’s tottered across the road and hailed me thus;
“Excuse me Officer! Can you help?” I’m being mistaken for a PCSO again.
“If I can sir, what’s up?”
“You’re one of the Community support people, yes?”
“No sir, I just do parking, but I’ll help if I can.” Why not?
“Have you seen my dog?”
“What type sir?” I’d actually seen a Fox Terrier chasing down the next street over less than ten minutes before.
“Fox terrier, White with Tan markings, she’s a Jack Russell Cross.” Aha.
“Tartan collar?”
“Yes, you saw her then. She’s only a year or so old and I’ve not trained her yet.” He’s very upset and by the look of him a little desperate.
“She come to whistle?”
“No, but she’s ever so friendly. Answers to the name of Holly.”
“Okay sir, I’ll do what I can.” So I spent fifteen minutes ambling round the block to see if his lost dog could be spotted. Spoke to a few workmen around the back of the Working Mens club who said they’d seen her and were good enough to check the yard for me. Had a further scan around the streets but saw nothing. Spoke to a few dog walkers just to pass the time of day to see if there was any sign, but nothing there so I moved on.

Half an hour later a guy on a bicycle hailed me and said he was the old chaps son. “Hello, did you speak to my Father about his dog?”
“Er yes sir, Fox Terrier with a Tartan collar, answers to the name of Holly, yes?”
“That’s right, he’s not had her long. His last dog died a short while ago.”

Well I’m a dog owner myself, and the old boy probably needs the companionship of a dog to keep him going. For whatever people think of me in this Uniform, I’m buggered if I’ll be a stereotype sourpuss. “You’ll have to drop round the Police Station just in case she’s been handed in, but I’ll try calling it in myself.” So I did. Not that I was greeted with enthusiasm by CCTV (I swear, one day when I’ve ditched this Uniform for good I’ll name names, times, dates and bloody places and let the Councillors know exactly what kind of CCTV cover the Council tax payers money is going on.)
“Hello, you busy?” I thought I’d test the water before I said anything else.
“Depends.” Oh goody gumdrops, it’s Mister Grumpy.
“Lost dog in Caldwell Street area.”
“Yeah right. Have you reported it into the local Police Station?” Sorry chap; thought that’s what you were for. I shrugged at the guy on the bicycle who gave me a sympathetic look as he heard CCTV’s answer.
“Okay, I’ll pass that on. Bye.” No point wasting time with them. “You’ll have to drop in to the local Police Station.” I said apologetically.
“Thanks anyway.” He said and we went our separate ways.

This afternoon I meant to pass through the streets in that area just to see if the old chaps dog was back, but with one thing and another never made it. However, shortly after four I had just turned a corner when somebody rang their bicycle bell at me. I did a double take and was pleasantly surprised to see the old mans son pull up on his bicycle.
“Hello there. Thanks for trying to help earlier on.”
“That’s okay sir, any luck?”
“Yes, good news, she’s turned up half a mile away trying to get into the Cinema. I dropped in at the Police Station and the Cinema had phoned in to say she was there. Their Security Guard brought her back.”
“I’m really happy to hear that. Hate to think of someone like your dad losing his companion. Life can get awfully lonely in your old age.” That’s nice.
“Yes, just thought I’d let you know.”
“That’s good.”
“Just thought I’d say thanks for your help.”
“Much appreciated sir. Makes a nice change from my usual contact with the public.”
“I’ll bet. Bye.” He pedalled off with a grin.

We went our separate ways and I felt a little better about today. It made a nice change from just handing out Parking Tickets.

Update: Added to blogroll for services to free speech and bravery in the face of dogs with Ginger eyebrows; Inspector Gadget