My name is Ralph or maybe Ruff, I'm still not sure. I'm 7 years old, which in human years is 35. My master, Freddie, pretects me and I protect him. See, we're cops. There are lots of cop dogs. You sometimes see us on TV: the dog that saves a cop's life by biting the hand of the bad guy, the dog that smells where the illegal drugs in the house are, but I'm a different kind of dog. I'm a Chigi and the unique thing about Chigis is we all have psi. According to dictionary.com, “psi” is “a supposed parapsychological or psychic facilities or phenomena”. I just know things. Or, rather I have a sense of things. I'm a dog and I'm trying to explain it to you, but I don't think you'd understand it (I mean, you are human), but let's give it a shot. My job is to sense/know when there's danger somewhere, when the human psychics don't sense it. Like, one time, Freddie pulled someone over and I got this feeling to not let Freddie out of the car, so I blocked the door. Freddie gave me a weird look, pet me, and asked, “What's up, Ralph?” He knew my ability and got out bifocals to look at the potential criminal. Freddie saw one of them putting guns in the cd container between seats and closing the lid.
He pulled out a pupperoni and gave it to me, then Freddie said, “Come out, with your hands up.” They obeyed. They were teenagers in baggy pants and wide white t-shirts. “I'll need your license and registraion, too.” And they all got out and the driver, a teenager came out holding his license and registration. But, I felt something, my psi. Then, I knew the third man had something, so I pointed my nose at the man and barked. Freddie gave me another pupperoni and searched the man.
My master discovered something. He had ziplock bags of white powder, probably crack cocaine, and I got another pupperoni and the men tried running away from Freddie and Freddie pulled his gun and I ran beside Freddie. But, Freddie missed the third man and somehow shot one of the bags with the crack/cocaine in it and it went into the air and I inhaled it and Freddie inhaled it, by accident.
Then, I saw a sewage cover and I saw four small lions crawling out of the four holes on the side of the sewage cover and I barked at them and felt foam forming at the sides of my mouth. The sewage cover started rotating like a dradel and it flew in the air like a helicopter blade. I shook with fear. Then, the dradel metamorphized into an unfun frisbee twirling towards me and I hid behind my master. My master was brave and fell asleep on the pavement, his eyes rolling back. I did the fight or flight thing and braved up too, lunging at the frisbee sewage cover with all my might, but then, it disappeared. It just disappeared
Then, I fell asleep by accident. I didn't even get to roll up in a ball. When I woke up, I was in a scary place, an evil place with white all around me and a young woman in white scrubs. The young woman said, “Well, hello there, Ruff.” That's my name, Ralph/Ruff. I also recognize this woman. She's the one who my master gave my poop to. And I still don't know what she did with it; my poop. But, the lady looks familiar. Then, I see the glove box. This is my vet. Damn it. It's my vet.
“Now, Ruff, you may still feel dizzy and/or have a head ache and that's normal. See, you and your master accidentally snorted some coke.”
Coke, I think. Coke. We inhaled Coke? That's a weird drink my master takes out of the fridge when he's thirsty: Coke. How could I inhale a drink? Or rather, how did that bad man make Coca-Cola into a white powder?
My heart rate slowed down though. Then, I thought of it: Where's my beloved, brave master? Maybe he's still on the pavement bravely sleeping. Maybe the bad guy killed my master. I start looking and sniffing around and then I whined. The doctor comes back in and tries to calm me down and I try to escape out the door, so I can find my master, but she had a leash on me and grabs my leash. Then, she shakes her head and says, “You're probably looking to go home. The thing is your Daddy's in the hospital, too and until he gets out of the hospital, you can't go home, but they're doing all they can.
There's a skill most dogs have called clairsentience which is defined as “actually a projection of a perception or our sixth sense”. It means I can feel what my master's feeling and my master can feel my feelings. And what I feel is my master's heart beating fast. Then, it's like I'm in his body or around his body. I'm not sure which, but vets for humans are putting metal irons above his chest, saying, “clear” and getting the wrinkles out of his chest hair. That's what it looks like. His body bounces off the table when the vets do this. Then the weird machine human vets have with four squigling lines going meep meep, stopped making squigling lines. It started making flat lines and a nurse hit a button and said, “code blue, room 5” and four people in white coats came and hooked things to his body. Then, they stripped my master naked, put their hands on his chest, and count to 30. He then kissed my master twice. Then, he started pumping my master's chest again. Then, another person, Fred, opens a small door in the wall and takes out a small yellow briefcase (dogs can see some colors, like yellow, despite popular belief among humans that we're color blind), and opens the briefcase. Then, the briefcase talks:
“Remain calm. Call 911.” The man tells the machine they're already at the hospital. “Now, clear the chest area and put two pads on the upper chest and two pads on the lower chest,” there's a three second pause: “shock recommended. Clear the area.” Everyone steps away from my master. Then, I hear a noise and my master jolts into the air. Three seconds go by. “Another shock recommended. Clear the area.” The same thing happens.
The perimetics look at the machine that was going meep, meep. It still has a flat line. The human vet comes and puts his fingers on my master's neck and feels my master's right wrist, then the vet looks at my the side of my master's chest and the vet puts his finger over my master's nose and mouth. The vet looks at my master's eyes and looks at my master's arms. The vet then takes out a white stick (maybe he's going to play fetch with my master?) and puts it in my master's mouth. The vet then says, “It's too late. We lost him.” Dogs don't cry when we're sad, we whimper, so I whimpered. I whimpered.