I may have been the only person who was ever excited to call 911. The usual emotions associated with this phone number are panic, grief, and fear. My emotion was pure joy. I do not want to give a wrong impression that I was an evil child who had no real emotions and thrived on watching others suffer. The truth was I really did not pay any attention to why I was calling. The fact that I had the opportunity to call transcended the reality of the situation. .
In September 1992, I was living with my dad in Jacksonville, Florida. For the entire year, I had to share his house with my dad, my step mom, and her two sons, Ricky, and Lucas. Ricky was two years older than I was, and Lucas was a year younger than I was.
The three of us attended White House Elementary. Ricky was in Third grade, I was in Kindergarten, and Lucas was in Pre-K. Everyday we would walk to and from school. After arriving home, we would start our usual routine, which included chores. As we walked through the gate our six overly, aggressive and massively large Doberman Pinchers always knocked us down. After we proceeded to get away from the dogs, we headed inside to get a snack and start our chores. Once we finished that, we watched television until our bedtime and then headed off to bed.
Just like most children, we loved to watch television. Of course, cartoons were our first choice. We loved cartoons. Rescue 911 was one of those shows that we did not have any choice but to watch because my step mom and dad watched it everytime it aired. Even though we did not get to chose whether we watched it, we very much enjoyed this show. To this day, I still do not know why we liked it so much.
One day after school, Lucas and I had to walk home by ourselves. My grandparents were in town and they had taken Ricky to the doctor that day. Lucas and I began our usual routine. Regrettably, it was my turn to feed Mr. Hoppy. Mr. Hoppy was our white pet rabbit.