Lessons from my FTO

I wrote this piece about an actual occurrence during my training for Thonie Hevron’s ‘Just the Facts, Ma’am’ Blog. She published it last week and I’m repeating it here for my readers. I also encourage everyone to check out Thonie’s blog.

Sometimes lessons come from the most unlikely places.  It was my second week on patrol, working the night shift.  My FTO was not only a training officer but the most senior officer on the shift.  As such, he had much the same authority as a sergeant.  About 3:00 a.m. we were driving through the warehouse district when we came upon a dog lying in the street.  The animal was alive but appeared to have a broken hip.  He lay there on the pavement, unable to move.

Clint stopped the car to block traffic and protect the animal.  He turned on the overheads, then walked up to the stricken dog.  I stayed in the car, listening to the radio, but I could see that the dog seemed to trust my sometimes gruff FTO.  After a minute or two, Clint returned to the car and picked up the radio mic.

“Boise, 107.  Show us out on 9th at Fulton.  We have an injured dog in the roadway.  Request humane society ambulance.”

“10-4, 107,” came the reply.  “We’ll have to call them out from home.  ETA will be at least an hour.”

“10-4, Boise.  Show us out.”

We sat in the car, the ‘bubble-gum’ red and blue lights flashing against the surrounding buildings.  Clint quizzed me on various procedures and, at ten minute intervals, he walked back up the check on the dog.

We had been on the scene for a little more than twenty minutes when the radio crackled.  “107, Boise, theft just occurred at ..”  The dispatcher gave an address on the other side of our patrol area.

I reached for the microphone to acknowledge the ‘just occurred’ call, but Clint grabbed it out of my hand.  “Boise, 107, did you not copy that we are out at 9th and Fulton?”

“Affirmative, 107.  Humane is enroute.  Shall I show you responding to the call?”

“Boise, this is 107A  (making it clear the transmission was coming from the senior officer).  Give that call to someone else.  We are not leaving this location until Humane gets here.”

“10-4, 107A,” came a chagrinned reply.

Clint could sense that I was looking at him with a ‘have you lost your mind’ look.   “Mike, unlike most of the people you will encounter in this job, both ‘good’ and ‘bad’, a dog will never lie to you.  We’re staying here with him.”

 

 

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