“Payback Ain’t Always A Bitch”
By Ross
“Station 51…unknown type rescue…2101 North Cherokee Lane…Cross street: Philips…Two-one-zero-one North Cherokee Lane…Time Out: 13:08.”
“Station 51,” Captain Stanley acknowledged. “KMG-365.” Hank replaced the mic’, and passed his paramedics a copy of the call slip. Then he jogged off across the garage, and scrambled up into the cab of the Engine, pulling his turnout coat and helmet on, as he did so.
Both firetrucks’ engines were brought to life.
The emergency vehicles rolled out of their parking bays and went racing off down the street, lights flashing and sirens wailing.
Station 51 reached the call site, a mere eight minutes later.
2101 North Cherokee Lane turned out to be an enormous two and a half-storied estate, surrounded by rambling lawns, and bordered by 12-foot tall privacy fences.
The firemen piled out of their respective trucks and hurried up onto the home’s front porch.
The Captain rang the doorbell, banged the brass doorknocker and shouted. “Fire Department! Open up!”
But nobody came to the door.
So Hank rang, banged and shouted again.
Still nothing.
Stanley exhaled a weary sigh. “I hate these ‘unknown type’ rescues. We never know what we might have.” He tried the knob.
The door was locked.
Hank gasped again and raised his HT to his lips. “L.A., Station 51. Request address check on our last call. Two-one-zero-one North Cherokee Lane?”
“Affirmative, 51.”
“10-4, L.A….51 out.” The Captain pocketed his hand-held radio and turned to address his men. “Stoker, Lopez, check the left side. Gage, Kelly, check the back. Roy, come with me, pal.”
The two-man teams disappeared—in their assigned directions.
Gage and Kelly made their way to the back of the building.
They reached a fenced in backyard and paused to unlatch a big wooden gate. The pair pulled the heavy portal open, entered the spacious backyard and started trotting toward the estate’s rear entrance.
Suddenly, from somewhere behind them, a big dog began to bark.
The firemen spun around.
A vicious-looking—and ferocious-sounding—big, black Doberman was barreling toward them.
The two men made a mad dash for the gate.
But the angry mutt quickly changed its course and cut them off.
Gage skidded to a halt, grabbed his companion’s arm and headed for the nearest tree—at a dead run!
The two fleeing firemen literally flew up into the branches of a majestic maple, arms and legs frantically flailing for higher—and more secure—hand and footholds.
Somehow, the pair managed to pull themselves up out of reach of the demon dog’s snapping jowls.
The breathless rescuers clung to the tree’s eight-inch trunk—for dear life.
“Chet-tu-kow-ee-mon-ti-ne-sta!” John Gage exclaimed, once he’d gotten a bit of his breath back.
Chet Kelly gave his companion a strange stare. “You wanna run that past me again, Chief?” he jokingly inquired, over the sound of ferocious barking, vicious snarling—and snapping jaws.
“You run like a deer,” John translated.
“You might a’ ran like a deer,” Chet acknowledged. He gazed down at the dog’s enormous bared teeth and swallowed—hard. “I ran more like a scared rabbit.”
Gage grinned. Then he glanced around, and his mood quickly sobered. “How we gonna get outta here?”
Kelly looked thoughtful, and then equally glum.
There didn’t appear to be a ‘dignified’ way out of their dilemma.
Or was there?
Kelly caught some movement out of the corner of his eye. He tugged on the sleeve of Gage’s turnout coat and then pointed to the 12-foot tall privacy fence, that completely encompassed the enormous home’s equally enormous backyard.
John turned his helmeted head and spotted a small white cat, walking along the top of the fence.
The Doberman spotted it, too. The dog left the two intruders treed and went tearing after the little white kitty.
Gage and Kelly shimmied down the tree, dropped to the ground and went barreling off across the backyard lawn.
They barged through the gate and immediately slammed it shut.
Just in time, too!
The thing almost jerked off its hinges, as the Doberman threw itself against it, barking, growling, snarling and snapping—ferociously!
The two breathless firemen fell back against the gate, exhaling long sighs of relief.
“I’ve heard stories about firemen rescuing cats out of trees,” Kelly confessed. “But this has gotta be the first case of a cat rescuing firemen!”
The two ‘rescued’ firemen turned to face each other, and traded grins.
Captain Stanley came stomping up to them. “Where have you guys been? And what was all that racket?”
Gage and Kelly glanced at one another again, and exchanged a couple of ‘We’ll never tell’ looks.
Chet turned back to their obviously annoyed Commander. “They, uhhh, keep a little doggy in the backyard, Cap.”
Upon hearing his companion’s gross understatement, the paramedic had to purse his lips.
Just then, the gate jerked again, as the weight of the ‘little doggy’ threatened, once more, to unhinge it.
The Captain stared at the panting pair, now looking slightly amused. “C’mon, gentlemen! We got in, through a window on the east side. The house is completely empty. There’s no ‘rescue’, here. Unknown type, or otherwise.”
Gage and Kelly watched the little white cat jump down from the top of the fence and go trotting regally off.
“Or ‘otherwise’?” John mumbled beneath his breath. He and Chet swapped grins again.
The still-panting pair gave the gate a ‘good riddance’ glance and then followed their Captain back over to their waiting trucks.
The End
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