White Llamas and Dwarf Albino Deer

One night, I received a radio call from the dispatcher to respond to an address and see the complainant who resided there in reference to a white llama that was in the man's yard.

After acknowleging the call, and heading in that direction, the dispatcher's words ran through my mind for a few seconds. White Llama? Oh, please!

Now, there is a quirk to my personality that has gotten me into trouble many times, and will probably get me into trouble again, because I don't ever learn; I have a bizarre sense of humor, I am an incurable smart-ass, and I am willing to go to almost any length for a laugh... especially a good one!

Bear: "610 to Headquarters..."

Dispatcher: "Go ahead, 610"

Bear: "Can you re-contact the complainant and determine whether the Llama on the complainant's lawn is a common Andean Llama, or a Peruvian Spitting Llama??"

Dispatcher: "610... stand by...."

A few seconds ticked by.... the entire precinct was holding it's collective breath, knowing that I was up to some shit, and wondering where this was going...

Dispatcher: "610.. what is it that you are trying to establish, please??"

Bear: "610 to headquarters.. If the animal in question happens to be a Peruvian Spitting Llama, I will have to take universal precautions to prevent contracting a communicable disease... Is the complainant able to identify what type of Llama this is... or is it simply a common Alpaca?"

A few more seconds of radio silence ensued... then,

Dispatcher: "610. Six-One-Zero."

Bear: "610."

Dispatcher: "I have the complainant on land-line. He states that he doesn't know the difference between Anrea... Ander...Ahh.. Um... THE FIRST TYPE... and the Other One from Peruvia..."

Bear: (Ever helpful...as always!) "610 to headquarters. The native habitat of the Pervian Spitting Llama is Peru. 10-4?"

Dispatcher: "[Annoyed Radio Carrier as the dispatcher clicked the mike without answering... A crack in the shell! I was getting somewhere at last!!]"

Dispatcher: "610?"

Bear: "Six-Ten"

Dispatcher: "The complainant now states that he no longer believes that the animal is a Llama of any type."

Bear: ( ?? ) "Six-Ten to Headquarters... Does the complainant have any idea what type of animal is on his property??" (Very large dog, perhaps??)

Dispatcher: "610, the complainant states that the animal is...... ..... a dwarf albino deer...."

Bear: (You have got to be fucking kidding me!!) "610 to headquarters. Can you ask the complainant whether this is a 'North American Two-Tined Dwarf Albino Deer', or whether it is a 'Dwarfed Eastern Fallowhide Pronghorn Mule Deer' in winter coat, perhaps?"

Dispatcher: "610, is there some significance to this question?"

Bear: "The Fallowhide deer is on the endangered species list, headquarters... its the only venomous mammal in North America..."

Dispatcher: ".... venomous?"

Bear: "10-4.."

Dispatcher: "Stand by 610..."

Bear: "610 to headquarters. Disregard, I'm almost '36 (* 10-36 means 'arrived at location'), I'll advise..."

Dispatcher: "Ten four six-ten. Advise."

As I pulled onto the gravel parking area in front of the address... my headlights fell upon a concrete deer, perhaps two and a half to three feet in height. It may have once been painted, but it had turned white with age. The concrete had broken off of the lower portion of one of the forelegs, leaving the metal armature showing, and algae had taken root here and there, leaving green splotches on the otherwise white colored concrete. I had found my dwarf albino deer...

Another vehicle pulled in next the my vehicle. As I exited the police vehicle, a woman got out of the driver's seat and walked around the front of her vehicle towards me...

Woman: "Officer! Did my father call about that damned deer again??"

Bear: "'Fraid so, man... and you are...?"

Woman: "I'm his daughter... he has a very serious drinking problem, officer... I'm very sorry. Please don't arrest him, my mother is ill, and my..."

Bear: "Ma'am... I'm not going to be arresting anyone.. is your father going to be alright??"

Woman: "Yes, officer... I'm taking him home to my house for the next few days. My mother has been in the hospital. He doesn't deal with stress very well... and he's been, ...well... he has basically been tying one on for the past few days... I'm really very sorry about all this."

Bear: "Don't worry about it. Goodnight."

Woman: "Thank you, officer. Goodnight!"

I pulled out into the street and decided that it was time for a nice cup of coffee... I headed towards a local Seven-11. I picked up the microphone to advise headquarters that I was back in service.

Bear: "Six-Ten, 27." (10-27 means 'in service' - in practice, we often cut parts of these codes for some reason)

Dispatcher: "10-04, Six-Ten. 10-27, returning to sector."

I drove for maybe ten seconds before the radio squawked to life...

Unidentified Authoritative Voice: "SIX TEN. SIX-ONE-ZERO."

(Who the fuck is that?!)

Bear: "610."

Voice: "This is the Deputy Chief of Patrol to Unit Six-Ten. You are hereby ordered to make a 10-12 (report to..) to Headquarters. Forthwith."

(Oh....... shit....)

Bear: "10-4. Responding...."



Oh, man....


Some people have no sense of humor about things.....





Epilogue: As it turns out, I got a good dressing down. (I was flamed hairless and had my asshole torn so wide open that you could kick an extra large beachball through it. But, I was a sort of folk-hero with the other street cops, which kind of made up for the ass-chewing.) I had to work some shitty details for a few weeks until some other stupid fuck-knuckle drew attention to himself and (thankfully) got it off of me. Sometimes you just have to go where the shits and grins are. You only live once!