Not everyone likes police officers.
A few weeks ago, we were driving along when a dog ran out in front of our car (no, we did NOT keep this one).
She had a collar and a leash but no tags, so we brought her over to the nearby apartment complex to ask some people standing outside if they knew who the owner was. One of the men stood back cautiously, and as we were chatting looked at JD and randomly asked, “Are you a cop?”
JD hesitated. He wasn’t wearing anything that might give that away, and he laughed as he explained he was in the academy.
“You just seem like a cop,” the man replied. I could tell that wasn’t meant to be a compliment.
A few months ago, we were raking leaves in the back yard when we got yelled at by a neighbor. The street behind our house dead ends at our back yard, so we usually rake leaves through the back gate to the end of the street, instead of raking them all the way down through the front yard.
We noticed the lady who lives in the house behind us taking pictures from her driveway. “Are you taking pictures?” JD challenged her.
An argument ensued. She called us “very rude” for raking leaves into “her yard.” The city’s rule is that you rake your leaves to the curb; whether we rake to the front of the house or the back, I don’t think it should matter. Not to mention that her house is quite a distance away from ours, and since we really were leaving the leaves at the curb, it had nothing to do with her yard. Regardless, she was not happy and threatened to call the police.
“Go ahead. I work for the police!” JD shot back.
“Fine,” she yelled, and stormed off.
I tensed up, wondering if the “I work for the police” had made the situation better or worse. I had visions of her spray painting “pig” on the front of our house or poisoning our dogs while they were playing in the yard. Of course I was overreacting, but there are times that I feel JD’s chosen profession makes him a target- on and off the street.