Sheepish
At a small sole-charge station, I kept a couple of sheep in a large paddock at the back of the Police house. One Saturday afternoon I was called at home by Comms to a 1A (alarm activation) at the school.
Around the back, I discovered a broken pane of glass in the large library door. I could see fresh blood around the doorway. I told Comms I could hear the offender and was going in. With baton and spray in hand, I advanced. I was shocked at the desks overturned, computers smashed, books, broken glass and blood everywhere.
“Police!” I announced. “Come out now!”
The blood was thumping in my temples as I moved slowly to the wall partition and sneaked a look ...to see one of my sheep.
It had charged through its reflection in the mirror-glass library door, injured itself, taken fright in the library and created chaos.
With the help of the caretaker I ‘dispatched’ it ready for the freezer. When the principal arrived I explained I had been forced to kill the offender. The poor woman went white until I told her the real story.
Comms had a real laugh, but it was not so funny for me. I had to claim on my own insurance for the damage. It was the last of our farming activities.