Gary is in his late seventies. Because of a variety of ailments, he cannot walk. He has osteoporosis, high blood pressure, diabetes, and has had several strokes which affect his balance. Now he’s confined to a wheelchair.

On this particular day the cops get a 9-1-1 call from Gary’s house. "9-1-1, what’s your emergency?" the operator asks. There’s no response. Again the 9-1-1 operator asks for the nature of the emergency — but there’s nothing from the other end of the phone.

As a common practice, police respond to what’s called a "9-1-1 hang-up." It’s entirely possible that the caller is injured.

Minutes later a patrol car arrives at Gary’s house. After no response to loud knocks, two cops force open the door and begin a search.

They find Gary on the floor in the bedroom. He’s fallen out of bed trying to get into his wheelchair. There’s a pull-cord over the headboard for calling security, but Gary can’t reach the cord. His necklace with a remote button for calling security is on the nightstand beside his bed. He can’t reach that either.

"How did you call 9-1-1?" a cops asks Gary as the two officers place a pillow under his head.

"I didn’t call," mutters Gary, "must’ve been somebody else."

"Yeah, but who?"

The cops check the other rooms. In the den they find a telephone on the floor, off the hook, with a cat lying beside it.

"No, that can’t be," says one cop to his partner.

They check with Gary. He tells them the phone in the den is always on the floor so he can reach it. "Maybe Amos, my cat, dialed 9-1-1," says Gary.

The cops notice there’s a 9-1-1 speed dial on the phone.

All this goes into the incident report, which is later read by a newspaper reporter.

Gary is interviewed by reporters. Although he can’t be certain the cat dialed 9-1-1, Gary strokes his purring feline, claiming, "Amos is my hero."