Wandering: Sometimes you CAN go to far

So here I am in the Galapagos Islands, with little to no cell or internet service, a comeback case of Montezuma’s Revenge and an afternoon to myself. I opted out of the guided tour to the “highlands” to see tortoises “in the wild” – because quite frankly, I’ve seen a shit ton of tortoises here already and I don’t suppose that seeing them “in the wild” is going to exactly entail anything new and exciting about the species. Unless of course in the wild they have tiny monkeys riding on their backs while they perform jousting matches, now THAT is something I’d travel to the “highlands” to see.

I’ve got my fill of blue footed boobys, reef sharks, manta rays, giant sea turtles, all manner of colorful fish, tortoises, cormorants, wild dogs and marine iguanas on this trip. What I want now are plain old, every day run of the mill domestic cats. My own preferably. Yes, I miss Neville and Christian Grey…and I’m pretty sure everyone is tired of hearing me squeal with joy and yell ‘KITTY!!” every time I see a cat here. 3 more days….

What I’ve learned about this latest trip is this: It IS possible to stray too far from home. I like to fancy myself a gypsy of sorts, traveling about to various far off destinations – but this time I’ve realized there are places I don’t need to go. Places where English isn’t a primary or even secondary language top that list. It’s unsettling to be somewhere where you don’t speak the language – and no one else speaks yours. Communication is so important – and when you find yourself unable to communicate, you realize very quickly how much of a disadvantage you are at. Don’t even get me started on the driving conditions of other countries…. let’s just say the transportation infrastructure leaves much to be desired in Ecuador. What I wouldn’t give for some good old-fashioned California traffic – or even better – the long, winding, endless roads of the Scottish Highlands. Now THERE is a country that was pleasant to wander through. Take me back to those Highlands any day of the week…. wild tortoises need not be present.

This is the second country where I’ve gotten violently ill from some form of food or water issue. Thailand being the first. It should be noted that both Thailand and Ecuador have pretty unsanitary restroom and water conditions, hence the likelihood of contracting something nasty if you aren’t careful (which clearly, I was not). And while both Thailand and Ecuador are fascinating countries that I’m grateful to have visited, I doubt I’ll ever visit either one of them again. Nor will I be undertaking anymore “adventurous” trips in the near future to other countries that lack the basic requirements I need to have a good time: English speakers, WIFI, hot tubs, bath tubs, hot water, warm weather, good food and at least a decent selection of adult beverages. I don’t require much, truly. Even when I go camping and am off the grid – I’m sure to bring whatever I need to ensure I’m going to have a good time. Cold showers, crappy cocktails and no ability to communicate with the outside world make for a not so great adventure. I DO have my limits when it comes to “roughing it.”

Now, back to the lessons I’ve learned on this trip;

It would seem that I am in fact happier alone than amongst other people. This became very clear to me on this trip when all manner of insignificant details became almost unbearable to me. Loud music, crowds, people talking, people laughing, being NEAR or around other people…. honestly, it was just too much. I’m so much happier and less stressed keeping to myself, listening to my headphones and just basically being left to the thoughts in my own head. I find myself longing for the solo drive to Tennessee in a few weeks…nothing but quiet solitude for 2,500 miles. I’ll be in heaven.

I guess travelling the country in a tiny house on wheels with my 2 cats would seem to be the ideal future for me, eh? Hahahaha…. what a kook I’ve become. I told Donna I should change my dating profile to say, “no talking required” – since it’s inevitably whenever a guy starts talking that it ruins any chance I might be interested. For god sake, just SHUT UP and retain some mystery. If I wanted a chatterbox I’d hang out with my girlfriends. Wait…where was I? Oh yes, back to the dilemma of wandering too far....

I’ve got one more full day tomorrow here in Galapagos, then another night in Quito before I fly home. We are going to hike to some turtle bay here tomorrow and kayak/swim with the turtles. I love that. You know why? BECAUSE IT’S FUCKING QUIET DOWN THERE UNDER THE SEA. Turtles don’t talk. And they never do anything annoying. They just swim around all graceful like - with me swimming next to them, wishing I was Ariel from the little mermaid – and wondering why in the fuck she ever wanted to be “part of this world.” In fact, I just became keenly aware of the barking dogs and sound of construction that have been going on outside this hotel for at least the past 30 minutes. UGH. It really is very LOUD here. Once we leave Galapagos in a few days and fly back to Quito, I’ll have a full night at the Wyndham Hotel near the airport. Hopefully I’ll finally have some decent WIFI and can upload these jillion photos to my Facebook page as well as answer a shit ton of emails and send off a few resumes. Much to do…much to do….

I guess I’ll sign out now – though I realize I sound horribly ungrateful and bitchy. I’m very lucky to have visited this place, it’s definitely worth seeing. If anyone plans on coming here someday I’ve got some do’s and don’ts to fill you in on. Just ask me. Now I think I’ll watch some more downloaded Netflix – or maybe I’ll get lucky and can stream some “Outlander” episodes.

Tiny House Dreams

I was going to just write a status update, but I’m sitting here with a big cup of coffee looking out the kitchen window in Bend, Oregon and I’m feeling like this might get a bit wordy for a mere status update. So here goes...

Why a tiny house on wheels you ask? Why not just a camper, or an RV or a teardrop camper...or something cheaper and easier to navigate across the continental US? Well here’s why:

I like going on RV camping trips just as much as the next outdoorsy chick, but this is going to be my HOME. Not just my home, but my cats home! Yes, they are going with me - whether they like it or not. So I want something the feels like a home. Not a dressed up RV. I want wood flooring and wood beam ceilings, and a soaking tub (maybe), and a compost toilet, and probably some solar panels, and propane tanks, and a big generator, and all kinds of other stuff that will allow me to pull over in any Walmart parking lot across the country and chill out for a few days if I need to. The plan is to see the country - at least all the places that I’ve always wanted to see. I can probably skip Iowa. But everything else peaks my interest!

I’ve got friends and family in various states across the country, so when I’m visiting those places I’ll stay for a month or so. If not on their property, then in an RV park nearby. Which leads me to another reason I don’t want an RV...when I’m staying somewhere for extended periods of time, I’ll be able to unhitch my THOW (that’s short for Tiny House On Wheels for you newbies) and use my truck to get around town and do some sightseeing. Now I know, I don’t actually HAVE a truck at this point, but I’ll get one right after I decide on a tiny house! I’m looking at various options right now, both used and new, but this is a BIG decision and one I don’t want to make hastily. My goal is to have my THOW by April/May of 2018...which is when the real adventure begins! Once my 18 month - 2 year tour across America is over, I will have undoubtedly decided on a place to settle down (most likely the Volunteer state!). At that point I will buy a regular house on an acre (or 5) and my THOW will be turned into a cozy little AIR BNB. See? I’m thinking long term financial solvency people! I can totally rent it out, raise chickens and rabbits (for eggs and meat), grow my organic vegetables and make the full blown transition into hippy-chick survivalist!

I’ve decided to sell off my furniture and put the rest of my belongings in storage so that I can vacate my beautiful Huntington Beach condo rental by January 1st. (YIKES! Kinda scary). As most of you know I sold my Anaheim condo last October, which incidentally is how I was able to take all these awesome trips in 2017! Fortunately all my trips were pre-paid, because as of right now I haven’t seen a paycheck in 6 weeks and am still at least another 6 weeks out from seeing my first retirement check. Thank GOD I have simple tastes and like Top Ramen. It’s like 1994 with two kids as a single mom all over again! Ok, so I have a months worth of paychecks in bad ass knives, but a girl’s got to have SOME vices, right? (Half Face Blades are my weakness).

I’ve already spoken to my folks in Arizona who are happy to have me there for a month or longer come January. Of course I’ll also be with Emily Cottle in Tennessee for a while, and most likely Ron Rayburn in Kentucky for another stretch. Then there’s Vittoria Ferrari in Madeira Beach, Florida - who hopefully will let me wait tables for free (I keep my tips!) at the Sweet Brewnette for a few weeks or so. Oh wait, then there’s Kate Favara and her family in Montana - and Lord knows I’m dying to hang out in Big Sky Country and do some fishing and hunting. So it shouldn’t be much of a problem be-bopping around for 3-4 months while I wait for my THOW to be built or purchased. Once I get my THOW I will leave my Honda Accord in Tennessee with Emily Cottle (I can Uber there in Nashville when I’m visiting) and hit the wide open road. I’ll probably make a YouTube channel or become some other self-promoting type of Vlogger. I mean, OF COURSE I will - right?!?!

It’s going to be an EPIC adventure.

(I just need to convince Neville and Christian Grey)

Getting Lost...

On days like today, when I've finally managed to slow down for more than 24 hours and quiet my brain, I wonder if the fast pace isn't what's saving me from myself and the thoughts that usually run through my mind. It's a scary thing, not feeling quite "right" these days. I don't feel like myself....whichever self I used to be. That party girl, crazy Shannon, isn't exactly accurate. I know, and those that are close to me know that persona is mostly surface stuff. Part of my ENFP makeup. But over the past 8 months the lack of routine and stability in my life has left me spinning like a top with no direction and very little to keep me grounded. I long for those days when going to work was fun, when vacations came only every 3-4 months and when I had something to do and somewhere to be on a daily basis. Now I mostly feel like I'm just running....constantly. From one place to the next, trying to put distance between myself and that life I used to know.

I used to feel like I helped people, everyday. No matter how insignificant my contacts at work were....I almost always came away feeling useful and validated. Now I don't know why i'm here or what I'm supposed to be doing....other than indulge myself on whatever whim or adventure strikes me. I'm hopeful that moving to Tennessee and staying with Emily and Kaila for a while will help ground me and remind me of who I used to be. Part of a family... Frankly, I'm too old for most of this shit. It's exhausting...and only fun 85% of the time. I'd trade in the feeling of "fun" for a feeling of satisfaction any day of the week. And I don't know that I've felt satisfied with anything in a very long, long time.

So I will take the rest of 2017 off to "find myself" and figure out what the next chapter in my life will be. At this point I have no idea. I have several options available to me given my skill set, but keep waiting for one to feel right and not just convenient. I want to feel passionately about whatever it is I'm doing...be it raising a family, being a police officer or being in a relationship. Who knows, maybe I WILL go to school and get a contractors license and start building tiny houses. Crazier things have happened. Someone mentioned doing private security and threat assessment for high end targets, but I couldn't tolerate working for some assclown - no matter how much money they paid me. I'd rather live in a small house on 10 acres in the hills of Tennessee on a medical pension and be able to tell assholes to go fuck themselves if need be. Now that I think of it, President Trump should totally hire me as part of his Social Media Team!! Hahahaha. I like his style. Rough around the edges....but I think he gets a bad rap. Kinda like yours truly.

Alright, I'm snowed in in Bryce Canyon Utah (ask me again WHY I thought a solo 3 week Winter Wonderland road trip in a Honda Civic across 5 states would be a god idea?) - so I think I'm going to throw on a jog bra and the most conservative pair of black undies I brought and hit the indoor jacuzzi. For the first time in the past 20 years there are NOT at least 3 bikinis in my go bag. I'm pretty sure I'm one of only 3 people staying in this huge resort this weekend, because you'd have to be half crazy to vacation up here during the off season. For the record, I'm only 5% crazy according to the QME.....hahaha. Only my CALI LEOS will get that reference. So off I go, to sit in the jacuzzi, then eat at the hotel diner, then back to my room to watch Netflix and hopefully sleep. I head out tomorrow on what will surely be more treacherous road conditions, flying by the seat of my pants as per usual. But hey, they are pretty cool Fjallraven pants, so there's that.

Great, I come to the computer room adjacent to the jacuzzi and see there are like 10 people in there! Back to the room I go...a hot bath will have to do.

Purging

Where do I begin. The beginning would seem like a natural place to start, but that spans so many years back I would be writing for weeks…if not years. So many snippets of a life that had led to me to this place, where I seem only vaguely familiar to myself. I will start then at what seemed to be the turning point in my 22 year career as Police Officer, June 21,2002. A jumper on the Colorado Street Bridge in Pasadena Ca. Matthew Ackerman, 22 years old, good looking, silent, and unwilling to tell me what had forced him to climb over the rails and on to the exterior of the bridge. I spoke to him for 45 minutes or so until the “crisis negotiators” got there and relieved me. Relieved me to stand silently by, watching their efforts fail as they talked to him of his church and religion….which I knew in my heart was perhaps the reason he was here to end his life. He leaned forward and let go…and the 5-7 seconds that it took until I heard the dull thud of his body hit the pavement below, felt like it was suspended in eternity.

He made me promise to give his shoes to his brother, which I did. I attended his services and spoke, or rather tried to speak to his eldest brother in my patrol car. Assuring him that Matts 4 brothers were his last final loving thoughts. It’s engrained in my memory as though it was yesterday….and that was not nearly the first time I’d watched someone die. It was simply the most helpless I’d ever felt in my entire life. And responsible. If only I’d confided in him more, got him to open up, got him to understand that darkness touches most of us at one time or another….the overcoming it is the true trick to remaining here…with the living.

There were more jumpers, more close calls, more lives nearly lost then saved….but even more lives lost than saved over the next few years. So I took a break from patrol, in my 11th year as a Police officer I was assigned to Detective Bureau. To the Internet Crimes Against Children Task Force. Investigating primarily the production and distribution of child pornography, along with other crimes against children that occurred in my city. Which were almost exclusively child molestations and child abuse. I spent 3 1/2 years there. 3 1/2 years looking at thousands and thousands of images and videos of children being raped and victimized, writing search warrants, trying to identify and locate victimized children and their victimizers. I had some great successes and sent several monsters to prison for life terms. Several more convicted and mandated to register as sex offenders, so my job was satisfying…..or so you would think. But for every arrest, every identified child molester or child victim, there were hundreds more that remained nameless. The things I have seen in those videos, one can not describe….nor would I ever attempt to. Ignorance is bliss….and it’s best not to know what can only haunt you in your nightmares.

So I eventually left ICAC, at my request, and went back to the simple and satisfying job of patrol in 2010. It was fun again…no more pending cases….no more child pornography or children I couldn't help…just patrolling and responding as needed to emergencies and calls for service. All the while having too much fun with my coworkers playing pranks on each other and meeting for coffee or C-7. Then the suicides and fatalities started coming in increasing numbers again, only this time, they were younger adults and children.

The Daily Do-Gooder

Today has been an interesting and enlightening day, which I've decided to share with everyone. Not because I want to toot my own proverbial horn, or call attention to myself, but rather because I'm hoping to inspire some "paying it forward" do-gooder deads amongst my friends. Now, I know that I have MANY friends that already contribute to society, friend, family and neighbors on a regular basis. Donna, Kate, Vicki, Amy, and probably many more that I'm not even aware of. Because you see, it is the humility of most do-gooders that they never talk about what they've done for others. They don't seel accolades or pats on the back, they do good deeds merely because they are the RIGHT thing to do. I have only my wonderful parents to thank for instilling that virtue in me. My folks are awesome, amazing, giving and humble people. Me? Well, not so humble....but I like to think the rest applies. At any rate...here is how the day went;

I moved to my condo in January of this year. There is a nighbor next to me who has been in a nursing home ever since I moved in. His name is Frank, and I've never met him. His house has been vacant and he has an adult son who comes by every now and again, but I've never met him either. I pass by Franks patio every now and then (my kitty Lucky used to like to sit on his patio wall and bask in the sun) and it always makes me sad that his patio is overgrown and in a state of decay. So today I got his son Tim's phone number and sent him a series of (what he probably thought were odd) messages asking him if I could clean his fathers patio for him. Truth be told, my initial interest in the cleanup was partly selfish. I love gardening and cleaning up old spaces - and I was looking for a new project. Once I had asssured Tim I was not a crazy person - and didn't expect any compensation, he gave me the go ahead. So I started in on Franks old, abandoned and overgrown patio.

I was maybe 30 minutes into the cleanup when I started uncovering the carefully terraced planters, and the many pots and plants that were dying underneath. It struck me that at one time Frank must have put quite a deal of care and time into his patio garden, and it saddened me that it had fallen into such a bad state. I remember my own Grandmothers house and gardens, when she got too ill and old to care for them - and how my brother and I tried to clean it up for her. I thought of Emily's Mamaws garden in Kentucky and how beautiful it must have been when she tended it daily - only to fall into disrepair after she passed away. Time and neglect erasing all the beauty that once gave so much joy to our friends and relatives. And so the clean up of Franks patio became more of a tribute to him, and much less of a hobby for me. I hoped that one day Frank comes home from the nursing home - if nothing more than to see his lovely patio and sit outside in the sun. But if that never happens than at least I've helped my neighbor and that fills me with a sense of warmth and accomplishment.

I'm now thinking of ways to do more of these types of things. Maybe organize a "community cleanup" with some of my friends or police officers I know. Surely there are other elderly or disabled people that need help with their yards and such? Most people don't like to ask for help, I know. But maybe friends or family members can "suggest" or "nominate" someone in need. I've got this idea in my head and everyone knows once I get one of my bright ideas I'm not soon to give up on it! Wish me luck....and help me "pay it forward!"

How NOT to treat your people: A lesson in Police Supervision.

I alluded to something being wrong at work that coincided with the tragic death of my sweet Lucky yesterday. Well, here it is - pretty much the whole story. Rather than repeat it, I will attach the email that I just sent to my departments Command Staff. I have been disappointed by law enforcement supervision many times over the years....but nothing that stings quite as badly as this recent slight.

Staff -

I feel compelled to write this, to engage each of you in what I hope to be an enlightening albeit unfortunate conversation. Please do not mistake my candor for disrespect, but take it to heart and understand that this is a very difficult email for me to write.

I have worked at PPD for 15 years now. I have 10 years left to go until retirement, and I still love this career as much as the day I started. What I do not love is the unnecessary drama and turmoil that is so prevalent at PPD. The ego's, the micromanaging, the inability to treat each other well and with genuine compassion for one another. It is no surprise to anyone who works there that over 20 people are in backgrounds with other agencies. That fact alone speaks volumes. Over the past few months we have all witnessed coworkers behaving in ways that are less than stellar. The gossiping, the infighting, the breakdown in morale, the letters to the Star News, the scandals, the IA's, it goes on and on. I have watched all of this with great sadness - sad because I know we can do better. That we should do better. And yet, the downward spiral in morale and how we treat one another has continued. I come to work happy every day. Happy to have a job I love, happy to make a difference in peoples lives, happy to be alive, and proud of my profession and those I share it with. I dedicate countless of my own hours towards furthering programs at PPD, and I do so not because I want recognition or a pat on the back - but because I care about our department and being effective in how we do policing.

As some of you may know, there was a sudden and tragic death in my family yesterday while I was at work. It was not one of my children, but rather - my beloved pet cat. I make the distinction between my children and my cat for your sake....not for mine. My pet was very much part of my family and like one of my children. For those of you who have lost a beloved pet, perhaps you will understand the analogy and my grief.

In my rush to leave work to collect his remains, I left an arrest report that had not been signed off yet. The report had already been read by Detectives the previous night and was used to obtain a search warrant. So I knew that any corrections that needed to be made would be minor. Once I had transported my cat from my home to the pet cemetery - I sent my Sgt. an email giving him my login information and requesting him to make any necessary corrections to the report. It is not uncommon for other Officers and Supervisors to make corrections to someones report when they are minor typos - it happens frequently. So I was surprised when the Sgt. called me and told me he was going to email me the report so I could make the corrections myself. I was still crying when he called, and clearly upset. I agreed to make the corrections and send them back to him before his EOW. Unfortunately I was unable to make corrections from my iPad and have no computer at home. This, coupled with my immense grief and hysteria over my cat being gutted and eaten by a coyote - forced me to have a rather large cocktail and cry myself to sleep at 5:00. I awoke at 11:00 pm to numerous missed calls, voice mails, texts and emails from this Sgt. asking for my corrected report.

I immediately contacted another Officer and asked them to please log in to my manny files and make the required corrections. The corrections were purely grammatical and a matter of style - rather than content based, and certainly not indicative of anything that would hinder the prosecution of this case. The other Officer agreed to help with the corrections, and that was the end. That is, until I made the mistake of answering a call from the Sgt. - who clearly didn't give a damn that I was at home upset and grieving the loss of a family member. I believe his exact words were, "It's just a cat- right?" He then went on to tell me he should have just "ordered me back to work - like everyone told him to do," at which point I told him exactly what I thought of him in two words or less....and hung up the phone. Still believing that the report had already been corrected, so there was no need to deal with his disgusting level of callousness.

A midnight phone call from Commander Moody and another hysterical conversation later, and now 2 graveyard Officers are being sent to my house with a department laptop so that I can make the corrections MYSELF. While I commend Commander Moody's ability to calmly talk to a hysterical person - I am beyond disappointed that she hadn't even bothered to read the report and corrections in question. I'm not sure the Lt. in charge had either, instead they relied solely on the Sgt's ridiculous and baseless assertion that this case wasn't going to get filed unless these corrections were made. Perhaps I'm the only one who realizes this was more a case of some Sgt's ego getting hurt when I didn't do exactly what he said....rather than the picture that is being painted of me as some irresponsible insubordinate Officer who wantonly jeopardized a critical investigation. The notion that I would ever allow a child molester to go free because of an oversight on my part is both insulting and offensive. I worked juvenile sex crimes for nearly 4 years and am well aware of what is needed to file a case. My report was well written and complete and would stand up in court without any issues. The arrest report aside, the reason I left to go home and was unavailable, was because of the sudden and tragic loss of a family member. What id it HAD been one of my children who was killed? Ir what if I was incapacitated due to an accident or injury? Would you have taken the same course of action then? I doubt it. At least I hope not.

So an A-car was taken out of service and sent to my house at 0230 hrs., so I could make some minor style and grammatical corrections to an otherwise complete report. It took about 5 minutes to do, yet the toll on my emotions will last indefinitely. That no one in the Chain of Command thought to question the course of action that was taken leaves me feeling completely disenchanted, hurt and disappointed in everyone involved. I reached out to several people today, and have heard nothing back. Which again, is hurtful and disappointing. Things can always be done better, but when it comes to blatantly being cruel and the callous disregard for ones feelings - that is where I draw the line.

I have always imagined PPD as my home, and looked forward to the next 10 years there. But I can not stomach this brand of "Supervision" in a job that is difficult enough as it is. I feel that the time has come for me to move on to an employer who values my skills and my dedication to the job, and who treats their people with dignity, respect and compassion. I do not know where I will be going, but I will be actively looking elsewhere for employment beginning today. I hope that you all think about this incident and learn from it. Surely there are better ways to treat people....you just need to be willing to do it.

Sincerely,

Shannon Reece

May 18, 2015. My beloved Lucky kitty is gone.

I got the call while I was at work.

I thought it might be about Lucky because he hadn't come home the night before. I was late getting home from work due to the arrest of a child molester, so when I pulled into my complex at 0230 I expected to see him waiting for me. He always hung around the driveway at 0130...and would sometimes follow my car in when I got home. He was a good boy, who loved his Mommy. But when I got out of the car and walked towards my condo I didn't see him. I called for him, but nothing. I was so tired from working overtime the past 2 days I just wanted to collapse, so I didn't go looking for him. I will forever regret that decision.

When I woke up at 0900, there was no Lucky kitty in my bed. I immediately felt the absence of his weight at my feet...because my little beasty always sprawled out across my bed. So much so that I couldn't even move my legs when he was asleep in "his spot." So when I woke up and there was no Lucky....I got immediately got worried. I tried to quell my panic by thinking maybe he was out playing or someone had kept him inside their own house last night. He was such a lover that everyone liked him and wanted to play with him. So I got up, busied myself with cleaning up after Crazy Belle...and left for work. I texted my next door neighbor Shirley to let her know Lucky was MIA, and asked her to keep an eye out for him. She loves him too, so she went out walking around calling for him..but no Lucky. I called Shirley from work at 1245 and she said she couldn't find him. I told her when he turned up to lock his little butt in the house until I got home. Such is the way with outdoor kitties....they roam, but they always come back home. Except this time.

When I answered the phone call from a 714 area code, I figured someone had found my Lucky. He had probably gotten lost and someone was calling to tell me where he was. Well, that was partially true. The man asked me if I owned a cat named Lucky? I immediately said, "yes, is he ok?" "Well, no....he's...well, oh god...um, a coyote got him." I knew from the tone in the mans voice Lucky was gone. He told me I didn't want to see Lucky how he was now....that it was pretty bad. But I've seen horrible things, and this was my baby. I had to go get him. I asked the man to cover him, which he already had, and I immediately left work to head home. Lucky was killed only a few condos over from our house, in a grassy greenbelt area near the man who called me's condo.

I cried my eyes out the whole way home, still in uniform and reeling from the suddeness of it all. I should have went looking for him....I should have kept him inside....wondering if he was in pieces like other cats I had seen who were killed by Coyotes. The man said it was BAD...that I didn't want to see him like this. I hoped that I could at least recognize my little buddy, and say goodbye. When I got there I parked and started walking towards the greenbelt area. The man had covered Lucky with a red towel. I knew his body was under the towel when I saw it, I just knew. So I walked over, crouched down, and uncovered my baby boy. There he was, his head, arms and legs all still intact, looking like my sweet sleeping boy....save for the hollowed out empty hole where his body had been. The coyotes gutted my baby and ate him....but they spared his face and feets, and for that I was grateful. The man who called me walked over and thought I was an animal control officer because of my uniform. He told me he had already called the owner of the cat. I told him through tears that I was the owner, I just came from work and was a police Officer. He was choked up too. Turns out he has a cat of his own, and knew my Lucky because he would come around the mans patio where he kept catnip. My Lucky was always such a sweet natured boy. He was more person than cat sometimes. I told the man I would be back to collect Lucky in a few minutes...and he handed me his collar which he had removed. It was all a blur....like a bad dream...

When I got to my house Shirley came out and was crying, she lost a cat to Coyotes before and understads. Pets are our family members, the loss feels the same if not worse. I borrowed a box from her to put Lucky in and walked back to where his body was. As I walked up another neighbor lady was outside, in front of her home. She was upset and crying too. Told me another neighbor had heard the fight at 0230 and knew it was a bad one. 0230....just when I was getting home. An hour late. Had I only gone looking for him....maybe....

The man asked me if I wanted gloves to pick him up. I told him no, I didn't need gloves....I've touched worse things at work...and this was my boy. I wrapped Lucky in the towel and carefully picked up my baby boy for the very last time. I placed him in the box so that I could see his little face and paws, but kept his unjuries covered. Aside from the horrible ants on him, he still looked like my little buddy. When we got back to the house I spent a few minutes stroking his little face and feet, wiping away the stupid ants, and telling him how sorry I was that Mommy wasn't home in time. The grief I feel is filled with guilt and regret....If only i'd have been there in time.

I took Lucky to the Seabreeze Pet Cemetary to have him cremated. He didn't like bugs and the thought of ants and bugs all over him didn't sit well with me. So I will keep his ashes in an urn and he will be a part of me always. The sweet boy who I saved from the freeway.....who then saved me from sadness and depression. I hope there is a Rainbow Bridge...and Lucky is waiting for me there someday. He was the best kitty ever.