On Sheep Wolves And Sheepdogs

A few years ago I received an email forward and while the essay resonated with me I wanted to verify its authenticity. I have and offer it here in part. It’s available in its entirety online and in my opinion is a stark reminder of what it means to be a police officer.

ON SHEEP, WOLVES, AND SHEEPDOGS
By Lt.Col. (ret.) Dave Grossman, Army Ranger, psychology professor, author

“…If you have no capacity for violence then you are a healthy productive citizen, a sheep. If you have a capacity for violence and no empathy for your fellow citizens, then you have defined an aggressive sociopath, a wolf. But what if you have a capacity for violence, and a deep love for your fellow citizens? What do you have then? A sheepdog, a warrior, someone who is walking the hero's path. Someone who can walk into the heart of darkness, into the universal human phobia, and walk out unscathed...

The sheep generally do not like the sheepdog. He looks a lot like the wolf. He has fangs and the capacity for violence. The difference, though, is that the sheepdog must not, can not and will not ever harm the sheep. Any sheep dog who intentionally harms the lowliest little lamb will be punished and removed. The world cannot work any other way, at least not in a representative democracy or a republic such as ours.

Still, the sheepdog disturbs the sheep. He is a constant reminder that there are wolves in the land. They would prefer that he didn't tell them where to go, or give them traffic tickets, or stand at the ready in our airports in camouflage fatigues holding an M-16. The sheep would much rather have the sheepdog cash in his fangs, spray paint himself white, and go, "Baa."

Until the wolf shows up. Then the entire flock tries desperately to hide behind one lonely sheepdog...”

Through the years I’d toyed with the idea of becoming a law enforcement officer. As a girl I can remember Angie Dickenson making it all look so enticing. But kids came early and as fate and poor judgment would have it, being a cop as a single parent wasn’t realistic.

Then I started dating an SFPD officer and with a little goading those old dreams bubbled up to the surface. I admit I have a bit of an ego; I hear the words sissy and fraidy cat and bristle. This probably explains why I’ve done things like jump out of a perfectly good airplane a time or two. But on October 10, 2001 as I parked my car outside of the Diamond Heights gymnasium in preparation to take my physical agility test, I froze.

A girlfriend of mine would have called that a ‘come to Jesus’ moment. In my mind I began replaying the sounds of heroes running headlong into danger the morning of September 11 – without thought or hesitation – and I realized I wasn’t sure how I would’ve responded. I had my epiphany and drove back home.

To all the sheepdogs here in Martinez, thank you. When the wolves come knocking on our doors you step into the breach and redirect their attentions. For your selfless acts of courage, words are terribly inadequate.