“You can’t take my dog!” I scream at him.
“Ma’am.” The man sighs heavily. “I’ve had a real long day. This lady called about a stray dog in her trash. Turns out it was a raccoon, and it wasmean. Just give me the dog so I can go home. My shift’s about to end.”
“Get back!” I yell hysterically, swinging my umbrella at him.
A cop car pulls up. The sirens blare once then cut off. The blue lights keep flashing as the cop and his partner jump out.
“Thanks, officer.” The animal control guy wipes at his sweaty forehead.
“I want to see a warrant.” I sob.
The cop rolls his eyes as I stand there sopping wet. I scoop up my dog, squeeze her to me, and look around frantically, trying to run. The cops have me boxed in.
“I have a case number already, man.” The guy fans himself with his cap.
“You have to understand, ma’am,” the cop tells me, “that dog is a menace.” His radio crackles. Tilting his head, he says into it, “Copy. I’m dealing with an animal control issue. Suspect won’t relinquish control of the animal. Calling for backup.”
“Backup? Oh my god, I’m going to be on the evening news. My mother is going to kill me.”
Pepper isn’t doing herself any favors. Her muzzle is covered in frothy whipped cream. She snaps at the cop when he gets too close.
“Watch out, it has rabies!” the other cop yells.
The animal control guy is pulling on thick, heavy gloves.
“Please,” I choke through the tears, “she didn’t mean to bite anyone. She was just trying to defend me, because you all didn’t help me when I told you about being stalked. Then he attacked me.”
“Look, ma’am, if you want to make a report about a stalker, go down to the station,” one of the cops says.
“I have, and no one helped.”
“Give us the dog, and I’ll take you down to do a report,” the other cop offers.
“Someone help!” I yell. “They’re trying to kidnap my dog!”
The office workers streaming around me pretend they don’t see the commotion, not wanting to get involved.
The bigger cop is already grabbing me so the animal control officer can wrestle the snarling, barking Pepper out of my arms.
“Wait!” I beg.
He stuffs Pepper into one of the little cages and slams the metal door.
“She gets claustrophobic.” I sob, shaking off the cop.
“Ma’am, please remain calm.”
Pepper barks in her little prison cell.
“You’re kidnapping my dog—I’m not going to remain calm.”
The cops’ radios crackle.
“We gotta go. Robbery.” The cops jump in their car, turning on their sirens so they and the animal control van can pull into traffic.
“Wait!” I scream, running down the sidewalk after the truck. “Please, that’s my dog! You can’t take her. She’s been framed. This is a setup—it’s a conspiracy.”
I’m aware of how crazy I sound, how unhinged I look with tears running down my face as I sprint down the sidewalk, pushing my way through the rush-hour crowd as I try to catch up to the truck.
