My Girl Amber

She was by my side whenever I needed her. Whether it be to finish a pot roast or to watch my six as I patrol with my squad searching for a dangerous criminal, she was there for me, and I was there for her. Her name was Amber, and not only was she my police dog, she was also my best friend.

One night, we were patrolling a particularly rough neighborhood on the north side of town, looking for a man who was wanted for a string of murderers, including two that he had committed earlier this morning. Reports were that he had last been seen heading into a back alleyway, behind a shopping mall. Flashlight and gun in hand, we head back there and look around. I don't see him, but I do spot broken glass on the ground. I look up and see a broken window, jagged remains of the glass, an indication that the man will most likely have cuts and minor wounds, leaving a bloody trail for us to follow. We find the back door unlocked and head inside the building. I signal for Amber to go ahead of me and make sure he's not hiding behind a corner, waiting to jump me. When she comes back and nuzzles my hand, I smile and proceed to investigate further. Sure enough, there are droplets of blood on the floor that form a scant trail. We follow the trail past several shops, all locked securely, but find no one. I notice how it's quiet. Too quiet. I begin to get a sinking feeling in my gut, which only grows the longer we search for the man. 

Finally, after 30 minutes of aimlessly wandering the building, Amber stops and lifting her nose in the air, sniffs. I freeze, expecting the murderer to jump out at us. "What is it, girl?" She crouches and starts growling, the fierce sound sending chills up and down my spine. She stares at a dark corner behind a large, potted plant where I see a shape behind it. I wave my flashlight over it and immediately point my gun at the man who glares at me and Amber. "Sir, come out from behind the plant with your hands in the air! Come out with your hands in the air now!" The man slowly rises, but his hands are down by his sides, his fingers flinching as if ready to reach for something. I cock my gun and point it at his chest; I normally grab my taser first, with the hopes of subduing the perpetrator without too much fuss, but this man's behavior is bordering on hostile, and he's already taken the lives of a dozen people. Plus, with Amber less than a body length from him, she's in danger as well. The man takes a cautious step towards her, and as trained, she backs up so that we're side-by-side, lowering the risk of him getting to her. He keeps walking towards us, his face twisted in a sneer, bloodshot eyes focused on my dog. Everything about this man is off. I shine my light in his eyes, momentarily grabbing his attention, and yell at him to freeze. "Sir, if you don't stop moving, I will shoot! Freeze and put your hands in the air where I can see them! Now!" 

Suddenly, he whirls around and runs toward the front entrance. "Amber, sic 'em!" I make the hand sign for her to chase the man, and she takes off, with me following behind her. The man throws a small object over his shoulder that soars over Amber and explodes and causes a thick, white smoke to fill the air when it hits the ground. The plume permeates the air and creates a filter through which I can't see. "Amber! Heel, heel!" No response. I can hear her nails click-clacking on the ground, then something crashing into the door. "AMBER!" I hear a cry of pain and charge through the thick smoke, covering my mouth. 

I breathe a sigh of relief as I see the man lying in a fetal position by the door, with Amber's jaws locked tightly on his ankle. The door has a good-sized dent in it like the man tried to ram it with something. Training my gun on his prone body, I crouch and feel his neck. He's alive but unconscious. I pet Amber behind her ears, then give her the signal to release him. She does so, and moves away from him, whining painfully. I gasp and immediately instruct her to lay down. She has a gash on her stomach, which I later find out was caused by a Bowie knife. I hold her in my arms, and whisper lovingly to her, telling her that she is a good girl, that I love her, and that she has earned a treat. Her ears perk up at "treat", and she calms down. I hold her in my arms until backup arrives ten minutes later, and the man is promptly cuffed and hauled off to jail. Amber is taken to an animal hospital and treated for her injury and resumes duty two weeks later. It's a surprisingly fast recovery, but given the amount of attention and treats she receives, and her strong will to live, I'm not surprised.

A month after the incident, Amber was presented with the PDSA Gold Medal Award, an award given to animals who displayed great bravery and devotion even when its own life was in danger. I daresay she was the best canine of her time, and I trusted her over any human. She had saved my life countless times, and where other people fail, she had succeeded.

She spent four more years chasing and catching criminals with me before officially retiring with several awards and medals. She lived out the rest of her days sleeping by the fire, enjoying a delicious pot roast every once in a while, entertaining children at the park, and going on camping trips with me. 

Amber, if I am to be considered a hero, you were my sidekick.