When I was a patrol officer, the dispatchers loved to give me the weird calls. My radio crackled about 2:30 AM one morning at @PlanoPoliceDepartment. The dispatcher’s voice advised “Unit 1174, complainant in apartment H-239 at such-&-such Apartments reports a dragon just flew through her bedroom window and attacked her. She’s awfully panicked and incoherent.”
“10-4. En route,” I responded, and headed to the multi-building apartment complex.
I parked in the closest lot and started walking towards Building H. A terrified woman poked her head out of an unscreened second floor window and hollered down at me, “It came in through the window here and attacked me. I’ve locked myself in the bedroom. It’s tearing up my apartment. Hurry! There’s a spare key under the flowerpot next to my front door.”
So up the stairs I went, retrieved the key, and unlocked the door. Opening it slowly with my flashlight and revolver in hand, I shined the light around the dark living room and kitchen. Indeed, the place was ransacked. Lamps were knocked over, knick-knacks and papers were scattered everywhere. The apartment was a mess.
But it was eerily quiet. I slipped into the apartment and closed the door behind me, scanning around the room with my flashlight. I saw nothing. Continuing to search, I made a broader inspection. Then I saw the glow of the dragon’s eyes watching me from a high vantage point.
Perched up on a curtain rod in the living room sat a Great Horned Owl. He was scowling down majestically, inspecting me. I had to speculate that he had probably been more terrified than his screaming victim as he tore through her apartment before I arrived, but now he sat perfectly still and quiet as he watched me.
Having grown up on a farm, I was used to handling chickens and Guinea fowls by holding their wings together just above their backs. Talking softly in a low voice to soothe the big owl, I approached him slowly, keeping my flashlight in his eyes. Incredibly, he let me ease my hands under his wings and lift him gently down from his perch on the curtain rod.
I kept talking to him softly as I carried him out of the apartment, down the stairs, and out into the yard. He remained passive as if he knew I wouldn’t hurt him. Once away from the building, I placed him on the grass, carefully released his wings, and backed away. He stood there for maybe five or ten seconds, then lifted and off he flew into the night.
I went back upstairs and into the apartment, flipping on the light switch this time. What a mess! I knocked on the bedroom door and told the lady I had successfully removed the dragon. And I suggested that she replace that window screen to prevent a recurrence. The poor owl had perceived the screenless window as a safe haven, much to both his shock and that of the sleeping woman he had descended upon.
I loved being a cop. Retired now, I enjoy reminiscing. I hope you enjoy some of the experiences I share with you.