Helen L. Wilbur - Finnegan and Fox: The Ten-Foot Cop

The Ten-Foot Cop

Written by Helen L. Wilbur and Illustrated by John Manders

For Blue Mama and Pop, their children and grandchildren

Helen

For Gabby

John

Authors Acknowledgments

Special thanks to the men, women, and horses of mounted units everywhere.

Text Copyright 2013 Helen L. Wilbur
Illustration Copyright 2013 John Manders

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any manner
without the express written consent of the publisher, except in the case of brief
excerpts in critical reviews and articles. All inquiries should be addressed to:

Sleeping Bear Press TM

315 E. Eisenhower Parkway, Suite 200

Ann Arbor, MI 48108

www.sleepingbearpress.com

Printed and bound in the United States.

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Wilbur, Helen L., 1948
Finnegan and Fox : the ten-foot cop / written by Helen L. Wilbur ; illustrated
by John Manders.

p. cm.

Summary: When a child goes missing in New York Citys Times Square,
Finnegan the police horse leads his partner, Fox, to the rescue.

ISBN 978-1-58536-784-9

1. Police horsesJuvenile fiction. [1. Police horsesFiction. 2. HorsesFiction.

3. Missing childrenFiction. 4. PolicemenFiction. 5. New York (N.Y.)Fiction.]

I. Manders, John, ill. II. Title.

PZ10.3.W6513Fin 2013

[Fic]--dc23 2012033576

M y name is Finnegan. I am ten years old, weigh 1,256 pounds, and wear steel shoes. I am a proud member of the New York City Police Department. Times Square is my beat.

Meet my partner, Tyrone Jefferson Foxwe call him T. J. but its Officer Fox to you. T. J. grew up right here in New York City and plays a mean game of basketball. Together we make a ten-foot-tall policeman. The NYPD Mounted Unit takes only the best horses or officers.

Youve got to have a calm temperament and a cool head to make the grade and patrol the Big Apple. We horses are naturally nervous and likely to run when frightened.

Months of training at the NYPD remount school get us ready to face any situation with confidence and control, whether its handling a rowdy crowd at a ball game or marching in formation down Fifth Avenue in a parade. With our human partners we can see and be seen in the crowded streets.

Not everyone feels comfortable around a police officer. People can be annoying. But who doesnt like a horse?

After graduation we get assigned to our partners. Officers who have just finished training, along with those whose mounts have retired, get a chance to look us over. I want a partner whos smart and steady so Im putting my best hoof forward.

One officer circles me slowly, really taking his time. Hes a tall guy, his uniform is crisp and his badge shines. He checks me out from forelock to tail, running a cool, firm hand along my flank, asking the trainer all about me.

His name is Finnegan. Hes steady and strong but he can be ornery. He has a mind of his own, the trainer says.

Well, I guess that makes us a match. Lets go, Finnegan, T. J. says as he swings onto my saddle. Weve been a team ever since.

Our day starts in the new stables on Pier 76 near the Hudson River. The hostlers take care of us, get us fed, brushed, and polished up so we are as neat and trim as our human partners. T. J. checks my hooves, gives my mane and tail a final brushing (he likes us to look extra handsome) and saddles me up. T. J. attends roll call, gets our instructions for the day, then off we go.

Hassan is on the corner with his fruit and vegetable cart and a pile of tasty-looking apples. He waves to T. J. and me. But no treats on patrol.

Next we pass Officer Serafina Ruiz directing traffic out of the Lincoln Tunnel. She blows her whistle hard and always gives T. J. a big smile.

Mrs. Waxman walks her dog, Murray. She flutters her fingers as we go by. Good morning, Officer Fox and you, too, Finnegan. Murray growls.

The big blue and yellow umbrella means that T. J. will stop for his morning coffee from Tony. Yo, Finnegan, Tony says and strokes my head as T. J. takes a sip.

Its 8 a.m. Times Square is filled with people. A million and a half people go through Times Square every day so I guess they have to start early. New Yorkers rush by on their way to work but tourists stop and look and take pictures. The buildings arent the only popular sight. Every few blocks, someone stops to say hello.

Whats your horses name?

Can I pet him?

Can my dad take our picture?

What can I say? We are celebrities.

For many city kids we are the first horses they get to see up close. T. J. lets them pet my neck and head. Their smiles shine as they repeat my name, Finnegan, hey there, Finnegan, nice horse. Sometimes I give them a little nicker and shake my head.

Today a group of kids on a school visit surrounds us and asks T. J. all sorts of questions about me.

What breed is he?

What feed do you give him?

What kind of saddle is that?

These guys clearly know their horses.

And no wonder. When T. J. asks, Where are you guys from? the answer is a loud:

CHEYENNE, WYOMING!

One of the mothers leans in with a little girl in her arms. Hey, Maggie, look, a horse right in the middle of New York City.

Maggie reaches out for my mane, presses her face against my head, and murmurs my name. It doesnt get sweeter than that. She just loves horses, her mother says.

An ambulance whines in the distance and flashing lights come into view. We fan out with Officer McNally and her mount Eddie to clear the way.