It's city living. The Man is driving on Lincoln Ave. today, hears the sirens behind him, and pulls over. The sirens are for him. He's in our Chrysler mini van, which is a mess inside with assorted newpapers and work equipment. When the Chicago police looked inside the vehicle, I'm sure they were certain they had their man. About four police cars in total arrived to interrogate him. They had him spread out against a car while an officer patted him down. They wanted to know when he was in a particular alley (he wasn't), which resulted in the quote above. Then there's the address on the drivers license that doesn't match the address that he hesitatingly gave for our residence. What happened was that an eighty six year old woman had her apartment broken into, and the description of the getaway car matched ours. They ran his i.d., and figured out that he was not the guy. One of the officers put his hand on the Man's chest and commented that his heart was racing. "Did you cry?", I asked. I would have been crying. Apoligies all around when they determined the Man was not the one. "We're just doing our job!"
This is a picture of the world's smallest police dog, catching a little snooze in her daddy, the Sheriff's, lap. I'm so inspired by this little dog with her police uniform!