A police officer friend told me this story, and I’m retelling it with permission, about a time he showed up at a house on fire and a lady screaming, “My babies!” He ran inside. I don’t know how bad the fire was but bad enough that his partner wasn’t able to follow him in the same way as debris fell and blocked that entrance. He gets inside and figures out the lady’s “babies” are her two dogs. He comes out with one under each arm and them both nipping at him.
I asked him what he said to the lady.
He said, “Ma’am, here’s your dogs.”
I asked, “You didn’t say, ‘Next time before I go running into a house on fire, maybe give me a heads up there aren’t actually babies inside.’?”
“No. Because that was her family. For her, those were her babies.”