Early in the job of policing, you learn you are not always the strongest, the fastest or the smartest person. There are times when you cannot wade in and do things the same old tried and true ways. Sometimes you must improvise to get the job done.

In the early 1980’s I worked in a three-person detachment in the community of Wesleyville now known at the town of New-Wes-Valley. It is situated on the northeast coast of Newfoundland and Labrador. The detachment area encompasses the communities from Musgrave Harbour to Trinity on the Bonavista North Peninsula. Frequently we worked alone. If you needed backup, you called on the off-duty members on the unit. If they were unavailable the next option was to call either Gander or Glovertown detachments. Depending on where you were in the area that could mean anywhere between thirty to ninety minutes or longer for backup to arrive. Given those odds, you often had to deal with any situation the best way you could.

Fortunately, most weekends there were two members working. On those nights you tried to contact as many of the local troublemakers as possible. This generally meant, stops for traffic offences and impaired drivers, and checks for illegal drugs and offences under the liquor control act. Some people might say, why bother someone for drinking a beer in public or smoking a joint. You should be out looking for people committing more serious offences. Yes, they are minor offences, and the consequences are minor as well, but a sizable percentage of offenders are often under the influence of alcohol or drugs when committing the serious criminal acts.

Stopping someone for an open beer or a joint would be a buzz kill for them. More importantly, it will most likely change their actions for the night. They might not be so interested when someone mentions about committing a break and enter. They have already been charged once that night so why risk it again. I like to think this type of enforcement has that kind of preventative measure behind it. Besides, word gets around that the police are on the move and that is a good preventative measure as well. Furthermore, when I was a kid, the police chased me for open beer, so I would not have wanted the youth in my policing days to feel left out. I have always been an equal opportunity kind of guy.

All this brings me to a Friday night in the early 1980’s when I was working with Constable John Butt. There was a teenage dance at the Badger’s Quay (a community about a ten-minute drive from Wesleyville). We regularly patrolled these events to show our presence and check on any unacceptable behaviour. Often, these dances were attended by fellows in their twenties who had not taken the chance to grow up. Frequently, they were the source of trouble on these occasions. We pulled into the parking lot noting two older fellows standing by the rock hill across from the back of the dance hall. One of these fellows was one of our regulars, especially when he was drinking.

As we approached the two, we noted a dozen box of beer, and they were drinking the beer right there on the side of the road. We stopped the police car and immediately our regular took to the hill. The other guy stood there with the beer case and John went to him. I raced up the hill. I was breathing heavily as I reached the top of the hill and cursed the extra chicken leg I had for supper. I still had the guy in my sights, so I continued. There is something about a chase; you cannot seem to give it up once you get caught up in it.

There is a little voice inside saying, ‘Can’t even catch a drunk. Boy, time for you to hang up the twinkies. Stubbornness keeps you going despite everything else. The terrain had rocks jutting out, holes and boggy parts which made the running in the dark a bit hazardous. I began thinking this fellow was going to get away when inspiration struck. I opened my mouth and barked. Yes, I barked like a dog, hopefully a large dog.

Well, at that moment this guy took a worried look behind but unfortunately for him, he kept running at the same time. He tripped and fell into the bog, and I caught up with him. I got him to his feet and both of us stood facing one another, doing nothing but breathing heavily for a few moments.

Finally, between breaths he said, “Gees, I thought it was a German Sheppard.”

I smiled as we walked back to the police car thinking the success of this chase could be attributed to my good ‘breeding.’