Cops are human (believe it or not) just like the rest of us. They come in both sexes but mostly male. They also come in various sizes. This sometimes depend on whether you are looking for one that is hiding something, however, they are mostly big.

Cops are found everywhere- on land, on the sea, in the air, on horses, in cars, sometimes in your hair. In spite of the fact that "you cant find one when you want one", they are usually there when it counts the most. The best way to get one is to pick up the phone.

Cops deliver lectures, babies, and bad news. They are required to have the Wisdom of Solomon, the disposition of a lamb and the muscle of steel and are often accused of having a heart to match. He’s the one who rings the doorbell, swallows hard and announces the passing of a loved one; then spends the rest of the day wondering why he ever took such a "crummy" job.

On TV, a cop is an oaf who couldn’t find a bull fiddle in a telephone booth. In real life he’s expected to find a little blond boy "about so high" in a crowd of a half million people. In fiction, he gets help from private eyes, reporters, and " who-dun-it." In real life, mostly all he gets from the public is "I didn’t see nuttin’"

When he serves a summons, he’s a monster. If he lets you go, he’s a doll. To little kids, he’s either a friend or a bogeyman, depending on how the parents feel about it. He works "around the clock", split shifts, Sundays and holidays, and it always kills him when a joker says, "Hey, tomorrow is Election Day, I’m off, lets go fishing" (that’s the day he works twenty four hours).

A cop is like the little girl who, when she was good was very, very good, but, when she was bad, was horrid. When a cop is good, "he’s getting paid for it." When he makes a mistake, "He’s a grafter, and that goes for the rest of them too." When he shoots a stick- up man he's a hero except when the stick-up man is "only a kid, anybody could have seen that."

Lots of them have homes, some of them covered with ivy, but most of them covered with mortgages. If he drives a big car, he's a chiseler, a little car, "who's he kidding?" His credit is good; this is very helpful, because his salary isn’t. Cops raise lots of kids; most of them belong to other people.

A cop sees more misery, bloodshed, trouble, and sunrises than the average person. Like the postman, cops must also be out in all kinds of weather. His uniform changes with the climate, but his outlook on life remains the same: mostly a blank, but hoping for a better world.

Cops like days off, vacations, and coffee. They don’t like auto horns, family fights, and anonymous letter writers. They have unions, but they can’t strike. They must be impartial, courteous, and always remember the slogan "At your service." This is sometimes hard, especially when a character reminds him, "I’m a taxpayer, I pay your salary."

Cops get medals for saving lives, stopping runaway horses, and shooting it out with bandits (once in a while his widow gets the medal. But sometimes, the most rewarding moment comes when, after some small kindness to an older person, he fills the warm handclasp, looks into grateful eyes and hears, "Thank you and God bless you son."