Judy walks through the streets. While she loved her job immensely, along with all the roles that came with it, she was more than grateful to have this night to herself. Almost every night this week had been dedicated to either stake outs or standard late night duties that lasted for ours. Both her and Nick, she realized. She wondered if Chief Bogo were assigning them late hour duties for any particular purpose. Did he think that foxes and rabbits were nocturnal or something? She couldn't speak for Nick, but she definitely needed sleep.
Nick, bless him, had volunteered to stay back at the station to finish up the reports, allowing her even more free time on top of that. She was surprised Nick had it in him to be so charitable, but she certainly didn't question it at the time. She had left that police station as though it were on fire.
She'll have to get him a gift of some kind. He has grown quite a taste for blueberries, so there was an idea.
Just as Judy was nearing her apartment complex, her rabbit ears swiveled toward the sound of loud and erratic knocking. Turning, she spotted a sheep: male, about four and a half feet tall, medium build, brown jacket and he appeared to be off-balance before righting himself. Judy could only see his back, so that was all that she could discern.
Once righted, the man began forcing himself at the door again, kicking it with his hard hooves, ramming it with his head or just slamming his body into it.
A break in would have been done with more finesse, Judy opined. The gentleman was likely drunk and was locked out. That was her initial assumption. She better go see to it that he doesn't hurt himself or anyone else.
Reaching his porch, she called out to him and presented her badge to him, "Sir? Is everything alright?"
The man barely registered her. He was making progress with the door; it was close to being snapped in half. The surrounding people were growing concerned and Judy wanted this to be defused.
"Sir? Can you hear me? Is this your house?"
The man glanced her way and Judy took note of his eyes. They seemed really distant. Glazed. As though there was no man behind them at all.
Additionally, his expression was slack. It would be normal for a drunkard who has resorted to beating in their own door to show a little more anger or frustration on their face. This guy, though. It was as though he were sleepwalking or something.
"Did you lose your key?" Judy attempted again.
"No," the man drawled, "I gave him my keys. I must go home. I must forget I saw him. I must let him rest for the night."
His voice was calm and showed little emotion. Judy thought she had caught a glint in his eyes whenever he used the word 'him'.
"Who is this 'him', Sir? Who's resting?"
"I must go home and forget I saw him," he said, giving the door one last kick.
The door flung open into splintering chunks of wood. The man calmly walked in and Judy proceeded up the porch to the door frame.
As soon as the sheep was through the doorway, his entire demeanor morphed. He blinked a few times, coming back into awareness and was made suddenly aware of the injuries that he had caused himself by breaking in his own house door. He bleated in pain and collapsed to the ground.
Judy took that as her opportunity to call an ambulance. Whatever happened to this man, she needs to make sure that he's alright. It seemed that her night off was over.
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