I've noticed one of those human nature things in my line of work. In the middle of the afternoon a young man comes in with his dog. The young man is fresh from his workout at the gym, where he spent hours building up his upper body, but not his legs, cause it's pecs and biceps that impress the other young men, so why seek any balance between upper and lower body? Oh, and they think it works with the ladies, too.
His dog is a large breed, a rott or a dobe, male, complete with testicles and a Harley-Davidson collar. The dog is not well behaved, maybe even a little dangerous. The young man struts when his dog barks and intimidates unsuspecting strangers. The dog is what we call a surrogate penis on a leash. It makes up for any perceived shortage in the young man's, ah, lower body.
I've been at this work long enough to see these young men grow older, like my age, and now they show up in my clinic with their new dog. It's a cute little dachshund or poodle, and he is clutching it to his chest. This is what maturity does to us guys, I guess. We change.
I can remember back about 40 years ago, when long-haired scruffy me was standing defiantly in front of those riot police on our campus after the Kent State students were shot down by confused national guard troops. I wasn't too fond of cops back then. So I can only imagine what I might have said then, if you told me that I would get fired now from a ten year old gig writin' for the newspaper, because I wrote a column in support of our local police officers. Heck, I'm having a hard enough time wrapping my brain around this development as an old guy.
I cannot say that I was surprised when I got the call from my editor. He has been annoyed with me for a while, cause I just can't seem to shut up and toe the line. And if I was all that concerned about keeping this job, I probably should have. But I didn't. In fact, I am probably guilty of deliberately provoking him with this latest column.
Someday I may sit down with my collection of weekly columns. There are over 500, so this will take some time. Many have concerned subjects that somebody would call controversial. Some of these columns were pure intellectual exercise, and others frankly sprang from conscience. Some subjects were arguably the oxen of the liberal left, and others the conservative right. I thought I might sort them into two categories, labeled the commies and the fascists, in deference to the folks who disagreed with me, and just add up whether I actually favored one side over the other more often. I think I gored a pretty even number of oxen over the years, and up until lately, I sent these columns in to editors who mostly just gave me my head.
With the arrival of the new administration in Washington, the paper lost its tolerance. And I began to hear from my editor whenever I questioned that administration’s actions. Suddenly, I was told that my columns should be limited to local interest, whatever that is. I was told to change sentences or whole paragraphs, submit new columns, or live with having my work rejected because the paper didn't approve of what I thought.
I noticed that they never said a word when I had criticized the previous administration. But suddenly I was charged with being too conservative, of spouting Tea Party propaganda. I guess that was the worst source of point of view they could think of. And since there was no one in the section of the paper in which my columns appeared writing columns in opposition to my thoughts, I was told it wasn't fair. And no, they never once offered to move me to some part of the paper where opinions might have been more appropriate.
In short, on Wednesday my editor phoned and told me I was just too much trouble, and so he dropped my column. And I sat there for a moment after hanging up the phone, laughing.
Anyway, this is the column that got me fired. During my career I have cared for police dogs from eight departments. I have enjoyed working with these dogs very much and I enjoyed getting to know the officers handling these dogs. I admire these young men and women, and frankly I have adopted a very protective attitude toward them. Long term readers may remember some of the columns I have written after police officers have been killed in the line of duty. There have been too many of those columns. And apparently for the paper, this was one column too many for them to endure.
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I feel strongly about this. I'm wearing the t-shirt right now, and I'm not taking it off for anybody. Call it team colors, if you wish.
It was a dark night, 2:30 AM, in Tampa, Florida. The car didn't have a visible license plate. Cars without license plates at 2:30 AM, in addition to being illegal, are often driven by drunk drivers or criminals. Cops know this. It's their job to protect us from such people. They stopped the car.
Two police officers. Two people in the car. The only witnesses who survived were the killers. The two cops don't get to tell their side of the story.
The gang member arrested for this crime is only 24 years old, but he has the “long criminal record”. Just got out of prison three months earlier. I suppose we will have to wait a few years for this case to go to trial, so I cannot actually say he killed these two police officers. That would not be right.
The suspect is charged with pulling a gun, ambushing and fatally shooting both officers a close range, before they could defend themselves.
The memorial t-shirt is from a citizen group raising money to help out the families of the two murdered cops. Two widows and those innocent little children. We ordered four.
Another dark night, 2:30 AM in Concord. This time the police confronted a man, a suspect in many armed burglaries in our area. The early reports suggest this man resisted arrest and then pointed a pistol at the officers in the dark. They had to fire their weapons at him, and he fell seriously, and possibly permanently wounded.
Only later was it learned that his pistol was only plastic. Imagine the sickening feeling when the officers discovered that the gun was a fake. They opened fire thinking their lives were threatened, and now get to live with that reality.
I figure they had no choice, and I lay the blame entirely upon that misguided man. He had choices to make leading up to his injury, and in my mind he made bad choices. And I hope the next cops in that situation don’t hesitate to defend themselves because of this.
I don't want to buy any more t-shirts.
Dr Bob
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