Sometime shortly after 7 last night, we had finished dinner and were transitioning toward evening activities when we heard a loud “Ka-WHUMP!” from the street. We felt it, too, especially the dogs, who immediately adrenalized into watchdog action: “bark-bark-bark-bark!” and the alarm was sounded. Almost simultaneously, the sirens began.
“It’s all right,” I told the pups, to calm them down. “It’s okay,” I looked out the window and saw the neighbor’s silver van up on the sidewalk — and then decided to go down and investigate myself.
The viny groundcover along the curb was ripped and strewn in a dirty trail crossing the sidewalk into the bushes between our house and the neighbor’s who live on the corner. A Chevy Neon was planted in the shrubs at the base of the towering incense cedar between our homes, its left side doors flung open; behind it, a police van had followed its path and now blocked it in, driver’s door also open. Sirens sounded all around us now, and Alameda’s Finest showed up in force — at least four and soon perhaps a half dozen police cars arrived, parked at varying angles because, well, they can. (Who’s going to ticket them?) Around the corner on the side street a police dog in the backseat of a double-parked cop car barked ferociously at someone. Following its eyes I stepped so I could see around the bushes at that end of their yard and saw an officer bent over and holding down a large man at the curb.
I looked back at the van and then saw the front of our truck, dented and bashed in.
Assimilating what had happened, I noticed how loud it was — several sirens. Looking up at our neighbor’s picture window, the kids were lined up kneeling against the couch back, watching wide-eyed. Cops everywhere, of course, and then neighbors out on lawns, some with cameras. One by one, the police returned to their vehicles and turned the sirens off.
One persistent fellow walked all around the vehicles shooting pictures like strobe lights — I asked who he was, thinking he might be with the police and just dressed down to muted blues and grays, but he was a neighbor, wannabe paparazzi, perhaps hopeful of getting his work in the local fish wrap.
At first the police wouldn’t tell me what the pursuit was about, but clearly they had followed the Neon up over the curb and into the bushes. The Neon had struck the van, driving it backward into our truck; the van then bounced forward and up onto the sidewalk.
I spoke with our neighbors, an extended family. The van was the father-in-law’s, and he was called and told to come home, so they could get in and get the vehicle registration and insurance information. We could then get a police report number for our insurance companies.
Our neighbor had been watching TV with his kids, heard the collision, and turned to look out his picture window and see the three people flee the Neon. One of them was caught, the other two got away. For now.
My wife was pretty upset about our Toyota T-100. She likes it for her handicrafts, and even though we haven’t driven it as much lately, she of course had intended to use it for work the next morning. Her office has moved and she was going to drive it to the storage site to meet the movers and perhaps take some things to the office. Not too likely now. Isn’t that how these things usually go?
After that, it was a lot of standing around and watching police work. I could hear our dogs whining up in our house, and at one point I went up, leashed them, and brought them down to our sedan in our driveway, put them in and rolled the windows down part way, enough for heads to hang out.
They calmed down and watched intently — once again I’m struck by how vital it is for them that the pack be kept together. They have their priorities straight.
After all, one of the idiots was in custody. The other two soon to follow, I’ll bet. Only vehicles were damaged, and some landscaping ripped up. But we were all okay — and that’s what matters most, right?
“But we were all okay - and that’s what matters most, right?”
Right. Definitely. Thank goodness.
And good for you for having the ‘pack sense’ to know that the dogs needed to be able to see what was going on in their patch.
I hope the insurance isn’t too much of a rigmarole…
Thanks, Truce.
Yes, the insurance rigmarole has just begun. We’ll see how it goes. Obviously, I want the city kept safe. But the reluctance of the police to tell me, at first, why they were conducting a chase sequence like something out of a Dirty Harry movie on our street is a bit disconcerting.
I miss owning a dog.
Lone beader, are you unable to keep one because you don’t have room for one? Or lack time?
I liked dogs in my teens and twenties, and liked it, too, that they often sought me out in a corwd to establish a rapport with me. But it was always something I put off until “the future.” The future was forced when I met Mrs. Ombud, and she had our old dog, Vinnie.
It was definitely an adjustment, and adjusting continues — they have their own personalities, after all. In some ways, just going to an animal shelter or store and walking off with one is odd. We don’t find our human life partners that way, after all.
A friend who grew up in Ohio invited me to go see the Cleveland Indians play the A’s at the Oakland Coliseum this weekend. I’ll admit, I hesitated because weekend is time with our Edie and Ernie.
And then I thought: that’s a bit nuts, man.
The thing is, several days during the workweek they are stuck home alone. Consider it: sleep all night. An hour or 2 of activity when the humans wake and prepare for their commutes. Then slumber all day. Waiting. Again. Dinner and maybe a walk in the evening, then … more sleep?
Well, our two do go to doggie day care twice a week, which helps. But on the weekends I like to include them in erands and what-not, and they clearly love it. I mean, they *love* going for a ride. Much more than I do, in fact.
So I’m going to the game this weekend. They will hang with the Mrs. It’s fine. My nutty desire to forego going out has been resolved. Although “cured” might be too strong a word.
Better to say it’s in remission.
And I will say that whatever I give Ernie and Edie in time and attention comes back to me tenfold.
Easy.
Wow! That’s a bit of excitement in your corner of the world.
A few months back a neighbor down the street had a police stand-off that lasted all night. The swat team was just droning on and on and on over the bullhorns. And even though I wasn’t even particularly near that house there were police swarming all over my neighborhood - one even bushwhacking through my shrubbery. Weird. But then again, I do live in Richmond (albeit Point Richmond), so I shouldn’t be all that surprised when these things happen.
LB: that sounds unnerving. Bullhorns? For hours? I guess I should count my blessings.
But I have mixed feelings about our high-speed chase. It was kicked off by the Chevy Neon speeding, going 48 mph in a 25 mph zone. One assumes it accelerated from there. Part of me wonders if it might not be a better idea for the cops to jot down the license plate and pursue the matter later, rather than in a chase.
At least no one was hurt — except the bad guys.
The bullhorn wasn’t nearly as unnerving as the gun shots outside my window that ended the stand off. Now, that’s unnerving.
I agree with you about the the whole high speed chase thing. Frankly, I think most of the time they are completely unnecessary. But, let’s face, if you were a cop in a sleepy suburb and you got the chance to engage in a high speed chase and nail the bad guy, I think it would be pretty darn tempting. Get that testosterone and adrenaline pumping, ya know?
Gunfire?! Eeeek!
Re the bored cops — yes, I suppose so.
But I do think it’s kind of an American thing, don’t you think?
I don’t get the sense cops in other industrial countries have a lot of Squint Eastwood envy.
Man, stay safe, LB. Swat teams, bullhorns and gunfire? I’d be tempted to start scanning the papers and the ‘net for other housing opportunities — but there are probably amenities living on the Point (or “la puente” as my Berkeley leftist realtor friend called it when he lived there 20 years ago) which keep you there.
Actually, despite the occasional police stand off, I feel quite safe in Le Point. Besides, I have a lovely little cottage with awesome landlords whom I consider friends. Besides, what would happen to the O’Ferals?
Thank you for the concern. Even though it was annoying and then scary when it happened, now it just makes for a good anecdote.
The O’Ferals — good point.
We all have our responsibilities, and those we owe the flora and fauna of our homes and neighborhoods should not be shirked. After all, humans are fairly capable in this environment; it is the non-human life we keep around us that most relies on us.