Zoltan

West Midlands, England — 5 April 2006. The suspect ran through the industrial estate, wind carrying diesel and rain. Zoltan followed, padding through puddles until the voice shouted stop. The man turned with a blade; Zoltan didn’t.
He took the wound across the chest, pinned the arm, and held until the cuffs clicked. When it was over, the handler pressed a towel to his side, whispering nonsense syllables that sounded like prayer.
Months later, the PDSA Gold Medal hung in the station lobby. Zoltan ignored the cameras and went back to work.