Quote: David Winners

No comments on the fat black lab. She's sensitive.

Yes, her eyes are telling me, 'please feel sorry for me; they treat me awful here - they feed me too much, love me too much, and they make me live with all these other dogs! hahaha!

David;

I ETS'ed back in 1986 from the Army NG. I had no exposure to MWDs during my service, but I am a dog-lover, so I am curious about something. It occurs to me that I could research it on the internet, but I believe that you will offer a more personal explanation...
I noticed in your photos that Fama is a Staff SGT. I can envision how a canine might earn medals and merits for valor, time-in-service, combat deployment, and overseas deployment (to name a few scenarios), but how does a canine earn rank? Is it strictly based on time served, or completed missions, or a combination of these or other criteria? I know that human personnel must be slotted in a higher grade than their current rank to be promoted, but I can't picture how a dog's slot would be graded.

David, maybe Fama is bossy because she out-ranks you?
(Or she did in the picture anyway!)

I tell you what, the war in iraq would be a whole lot shorter if MWDs like Fama could get officer rank.

"That's an order soldier or I'll bite your ***!"

Tracey: thanks! Maxx was a really cool dog. A real doofus. He loved to swallow soft items of material, such as socks and kitchen towels, whole. That started an exciting game we called, "What's in Maxx's butt?!"

Here's a picture of him at about 1 year old, in his favorite place... my chair
http://i470.photobucket.com/albums/rr69/dwinners/DSCN0314.jpg

Tanya: Molly, the black Lab, was a rescue, and probably the sweetest little girl you have ever met.

Duane: I wish it was as honorable as you envision it. The truth is, to the big Army, dogs are just another piece of equipment with a serial number. The simple truth is that they always outrank the handler by 1 rank. She's the boss. I pick up the poop, feed, bathe, groom, and cater to her every need. So she's a typical Staff Sergeant

Ben: I think Fama is bossy because she is a bitch I have met a LT Colonel yellow Lab, and the war would have been shorter if they would have just taken the Fetz dog over and let him go.

Ahh thanks for putting the picture of Maxx up David, what a darling face, I know what you mean about Mastiffs and their propensity for swallowing things whole, yesterday stupid me took a loaf of bread out of the shopping bag and left it on the side to turn round and flick the kettle on, in a second, Kaiser stole it and swallowed it whole, bag and all, this mornings poo clear was a delight, out it came bag and all, though squashed to the size of a sausage, the gormless fool would eat anything he could steal, regardless of it's smell or texture

I am normally SO vigilant, that clearly was not the case yesterday!

 Quote: David Winners

She's the boss. I pick up the poop, feed, bathe, groom, and cater to her every need. So she's a typical Staff Sergeant

I assume that you aspire to be a SSG soon?

HAHAHA.... I would have been E6 last year, but I'm ETSing in a few weeks. They don't like to promote people that are separating from the military. Time to go train some dogs.

 Quote: tracey holden

Ahh thanks for putting the picture of Maxx up David, what a darling face, I know what you mean about Mastiffs and their propensity for swallowing things whole, yesterday stupid me took a loaf of bread out of the shopping bag and left it on the side to turn round and flick the kettle on, in a second, Kaiser stole it and swallowed it whole, bag and all, this mornings poo clear was a delight, out it came bag and all, though squashed to the size of a sausage, the gormless fool would eat anything he could steal, regardless of it's smell or texture

I am normally SO vigilant, that clearly was not the case yesterday!

OMG, they are crazy sometimes! Maxx went through a period when he liked to eat his own poop. During this delightful phase, I spied him pooping out a long sock in the back yard, so I went out the back door with a rubber glove to offer assistance. When he finally got the Poopsockle(tm) pushed out, he turned right around and tried to eat it, getting it about half way down. I had to snatch it out of his mouth, and it really got to my stomache.

I'm in my back yard with a poop covered sock in my right hand, held behind my back, trying to ward him off with my left hand, so he doesn't recycle it, gagging and heaving, playing keep away with this goof.

I love Mastiffs of all sorts.

Episode 13

Training was becoming more scenario based as we progressed in proficiency as dog teams. The trainers were setting up complex problems that closely replicated what we were going to face when we deployed and started operating in the real world. On this particular day, we were working our way around to the back side of a village, locating and searching a tunnel that ran under the perimeter wall, and gaining entry to the village through the tunnel. Sounded like fun to me.

Fama and I had completed the route to the village and recon of the perimeter, locating the tunnel. It was a piece of corrugated plastic tile 3 foot in diameter coming out of a hill at the base of the wall. The tunnel was 30 feet long, dark as night, and full of spider webs. I thought back to the initial safety brief we received when we got to YPG that listed about 200 different insects and reptiles that would happily bite and kill you given the chance. Here was a cool, dark, isolated environment with signs of habitation by a good sized spider family. Just the sort of place they told you not to go.

Some dogs, like some people, don't like confined spaces. A scared dog can react in a variety of ways, including freezing up, shaking, vocalizing, and biting everything within reach. It's really the last in that list that we are concerned with, because it's very difficult to get away from a dog when you are crawling through a tunnel and it is attached to you with a leash. The safest way to deal with this is by applying a muzzle to the dog, and controlling it's head to the best of your ability while crawling. The preferred way to accomplish controlling the dog is to sit the dog on your left with the leash in your right hand, running across your body. You then step over the leash with your left leg, and lay down in front of the dog. This places the dog between your legs with your body between the dog's teeth and your face. You can then control the movement of the dog by pulling forward on the leash, sucking the dog's head up against your butt, keeping them against the ground.

It was over 100 degrees, and we had just done a route clear up a hill to the village and searched around to the back to locate the tunnel. Fama was panting pretty heavily, and I was cooking myself, so we took a little break and had a drink while I thought about how I was going to deal with a rattlesnake in the tunnel, laying on my belly, with a dog between my legs. I'll just put my head down so my helmet will deflect the rattlesnake bites while I back out of the tunnel screaming like a little girl. That was the best I could come up with.

Joey was telling us to get moving, so we assumed the position with Fama behind me, between my legs, with her head on my butt. I decided to forgo the muzzle because she was still panting pretty heavily and it would restrict her breathing. We entered the tunnel like a very small, very slow train, inching our way along. I was desperately peering into the darkness in search of anything creepy, ready to make a run for it at the first sign of critters. Fama was having no fun at all. She started by trying to shake free and back up, so I pulled her in and kept moving. I was just hoping to get to the end of the tunnel as quickly as possible while avoiding fangs at all cost. The shaking grew more violent, and she sprinkled in a few growls for spice. I did the math, and Fama's fangs were longer than a spider's, so I picked up the pace. We were getting close to the other end of the tunnel. I could clearly see light, but not an opening. I stopped for a second to assess the situation and Fama, being the little caboose that could, bit me in the ass to get me going.

Luckily, I had my helmet on, because my head bounced off the top of the tunnel. Turning around as far as I could, I pinned her head up against the side of the tunnel with my leg (thank God for the leash) and looked her in the eye. We were both remembering our little scuffle in the parking lot back in Indiana. I could just make out her eyes in the chem-light green glow at the end of the tunnel. I started whispering sweet threats of strangulation and ended up promising to bury her body in an unmarked grave in the desert if she bit me again. We came to the conclusion that we should just get this over with, so I flipped back over and continued down the tunnel. I forgot all about the spiders.

I reached the end of the tunnel and discovered that it turned 90 degrees up, and emptied into a room inside the compound. Because of the amount of equipment I was wearing, I couldn't just stand up. My back hit the top of the tunnel, so I had to squirm around and lay on my back to get into a position where I could sit up, slide my hips back under me, and then stand. When I flipped over to my back and sat up, the leash was no longer in between my legs and I was sitting face to face with a dog that just bit me. I began another conversation about what would happen if she did anything stupid, and Fama took this as her cue. She ran up my face, through the hole in the floor of the room, and began searching. I just dropped the leash and crawled out, shaking my head in bewilderment.

When we finished clearing that building we entered a central courtyard and found Joey over by a house. I told him about what had happened in the tunnel.

"I bet you put a muzzle on her next time, huh Chief," he grinned. Thanks Joey.

He instructed me to hook Fama up on the long line, so I switched leashes and then joined him at the doorway. This was to be an exercise in ninja skills, where you search a building on long line, but the handler stays at the doorway, feeling what the dog is doing through 30 foot of cotton. Fama, eager as always and energized by her snack of ass, was hovering 2 inches off the ground, locked onto my eyes, begging for the word to go. I let her sit there a minute, paybacks are hell, and then put her to work.

She hit the door searching and quickly went around the corner into the first room. I kept slight tension on the leash so I could feel what was going on. After having searched hundreds of rooms with her, I could close my eyes and picture what she was doing through the feedback I was getting from the leash. It was amazing. I felt her leave the first room and enter the one across the hall, because she always gives a little lunge when she enters a room. She came back into the hall, paused to look for me, decided I was not necessary, and moved further into the house. I was standing still as a statue outside the door with my eyes closed. Fama was my Avatar. Tug on the leash; she had entered another room. Her respiratory rate sharply increased, and her movement became less frantic, smoother. She was on odor. She checked back towards the door quickly and then discarded that area with a quick spin, her head snapping quickly to capture the scent. She moved to the far end of the room, and exhaled sharply, I was listening for it, clearing her nose for that last big sniff, just to be sure. She sat. I could feel her tail wagging.

I had tears in my eyes. My heart swelled with pride in my dog, with pride in US as a team. I could see her, ears forward, focused, every bit of energy directed towards the hide. I could feel her glance towards the door, waiting for daddy and her reward. I walked down the hall just far enough to see her tail wagging through the doorway and tossed her ball to where I knew her head was. The house exploded with oggie-boogie voices as Joey and I gave Fama the party that she so deserved. She was doing the full body wiggle with an occasional victory lap around the room, her eyes bright as the sun. This was the best job in the world.

I don't know if you know that 2 of my dogs are SA Mastiffs??

Of all the Mastiffs I have met and known, they are the most comical of breeds. When Sugar was a pup, she was the biggest shock of our lives; I already had two EP's, who are biddable to the point of shooting fish in a barrel, then along came what looked like a little angel, what we got was the devil incarnate!

She was the gobbiest dog I have ever known, I went back to work after bedding her in for a fortnight looking like a self harmer, I was literally shredded, that was around the time I joined this board, and it has taught me so much, that if I ever get another BB, I think I will be better prepared lol!

Her favourite trick was to ambush me when I was poo clearing, wait until I was handicapped with a bag to lift and a bag to drop it in, then would fly up the garden like an exocet, pull my Jammie trousers down to the ankles, then bite me smartly on the arse, the embarrassment was greater than the shark like teeth in the skin, and no matter how quietly I snuck out of the house while she was sleeping, she just KNEW when I was vulnerable!

At nearly 3, she is the most darling and affectionate girl, devoted to me like her brother Kaiser, as I type she is curled up on my lap, all 7 stone of her!

There are all sorts of dogs I would like to own before I die, but these Mastiffs have captured my heart, and I can't imagine my life without one

Would you ever have another one?