Quote: David Winners

I'm in the Army remember. My definition of rude and your definition of rude are probably miles apart

David;
I am going to petition human resources at the firm where I work; I'm going to request that they start a blog, and I would like permission to borrow this line.

 Quote: Duane Hull

 Quote: David Winners

I'm in the Army remember. My definition of rude and your definition of rude are probably miles apart

David;
I am going to petition human resources at the firm where I work; I'm going to request that they start a blog, and I would like permission to borrow this line.

Duane, anything I can do to improve your work environment is a worthwhile cause. I will write a weekly column there entitled "So You Think YOUR Job Sucks...."

So this one time when we were face down in the rain when it was 40 degrees and our air support never showed up....

You get the idea. Operating in the middle east for a couple of years puts some things in perspective

Reminds me of training with the Artillery. I much preferred the Engineers. We were usually spared the field in exchange for the barracks, which were a lot closer to the parking lots we were paving.

We are working with our second puppy, and we can see that these dogs REALLY want to work. We spend many hours each day encouraging their prey drive, taking them to every imaginable environment, and socializing them to all kinds of people. They can never be left alone, off-leash unless in the crate because they are into everything and would probably kill themselves ingesting weird objects. I found Leerburg though the foster coordinators and have purchased several of the DVDs to learn more about how to help these puppies succeed. It's been a real education for us and has helped our own dog as well. Regal is wonderful with the foster puppies; he has a mellow disposition and they use him as a chew toy--learning not to bite hard on other dogs.

I've put all of your episodes together in a Word file to read almost as a book. Also we have shared it with friends who have a GSD that can be difficult. Schatzi is from a working dog line so she is very fit, but she is also quite a challenge for them.

These Malinois bond strongly and are very sensitive. It helps more than I can tell you to know that they will go on to form firm relationships with their handlers and have work that will occupy their very active minds.

Episode 19

Fama was getting better about searching in areas that were covered in materials that were uncomfortable on her feet, but she was still reluctant to just dive in and search with the careless abandon she displayed on more sure footing. We had been training in a lot of rubble piles, gravel and vegetation with thorns and prickers, along with a lot of running on the road, which was helping her pads to develop thicker callouses. I had the opportunity to do some afternoon training, so I approached Gary with the idea of working with me and Fama, independent from the rest of the group, in some nasty places and having lots of fun, so she would quit being such a sissy. Gary thought this was a good idea, and retrieved a training aid for me to use. He handed over the training aid and turned back to his desk. Up to this point, we were never allowed to work our dogs on odor without a trainer present, for fear of messing up the dog, so I assumed he was going to accompany us.

Gary turned and noticed I was waiting for him. "Well get out of here. Let me know how it goes," he said.

Not only was he trusting me to train with my dog by myself, but he had faith in me to let me work through a problem Fama was having. This was a huge step for me and a compliment, coming from Gary. I was really coming into my own as a handler as well as a trainer. Reading dogs while they were searching was becoming a habit instead of a struggle, and not just my own dog. I spent as much time as possible watching other teams work, listening intently to what Gary and Luchian had to say. I picked their brains about anything I didn't understand, asking dozens of questions and offering theories about what I saw happening during training. They were always enthusiastic about my interest and willing to help me learn. They could see my passion for dogs and detection work.

I took Fama down the street to a vacant lot where we had trained 3 days prior, which was full of nasty plants with small thorns, long enough to be uncomfortable on her feet, but not long enough to do any harm. We walked to the center of the lot, Fama picking her way through the vegetation daintily. I tossed the ball to the right, and when she took off with her attention on the ball, tossed the training aid to the left. I got my ball back and immediately gave her the search command, directing her in the direction of the tossed aid. It hadn't gone far and she was on odor almost immediately, working hesitantly to the hide and responding. I tossed her ball immediately and repeated the process, over and over again, until she was crashing through the prickly weeds with enthusiasm.

We went over to a picnic table nearby and took a break. After giving Fama some water, I told her to stay, walked around the corner where she couldn't see me, and tossed the training aid deep into another vacant lot full of prickers. I let her catch her breath for 10 minutes and then took her over to the new field to see how she would react. She was really excited, which was a sight for sore eyes. She was hovering 2 inches off the ground, the hard stare of focused anticipation locked onto my eyes, awaiting the opportunity to go find that bomb. I sent her out into the field, but not right at the hide. She had to work for this one, and work she did. She was tearing through the weeds, mindless of the small pricks against her paws and belly. It brought back memories of Indiana with Fama blasting through open fields of grass with focused drive and enthusiasm. I had successfully reminded her that nothing else really mattered except that bomb. I had thrown the aid into a particularly nasty part of the lot that was thick with weeds. She worked her way right into the center of the weed patch without a second thought, sitting beautifully and indicating with her trademark focused stare. We were definitely on our way back.

We were training vehicle searches in a parking lot of 17 garbage trucks, which were lined up in 5 uneven rows with 6 to 8 feet between the front and back bumpers. The rows were only about 6 feet apart, so it made of a compact area full of places to search. A garbage truck has a variety of interesting places to hide a training aid, so the search was a relatively difficult one. I decided to work Fama off leash, which ended up being a mistake. She was running all over the lot. I couldn't even keep her in my sight, let alone keep up and make sure she was searching all the productive areas on each vehicle. I was getting frustrated as I had become used to a slower, calmer Fama that needed constant direction to work, and now her enthusiasm and energy level were returning to normal. She was adjusting far faster than me. I felt like it was week one back in Indiana and I had no control over my dog, and it was pissing me off.

We came to the end of a row of trucks and I stopped the search to gather myself. I called Fama over and asked her to sit. She was waiting impatiently to get on with it, her frustration growing by the second. I walked to the next row of trucks and made her sit, right at the back of a garbage truck. The compactor was down inside the back of the truck, with the rounded surface of the back of the blade creating a ramp inside the garbage truck that extended all the way to the top of the interior of the truck. I wanted to make sure Fama checked up in the back of the truck, so I gave the search command and directed her towards the garbage compartment. I was expecting her to lift her head up and sniff the open back of the truck, or maybe put her front feet up on the truck to get a better sniff. She decided she would offer a more thorough search.

Fama jumped up in the back of the truck and searched around, which was fine, but then she headed right up the steep ramp created by the compactor. My left eyeball almost fell out of my head. She wiggled to the top of the truck, searching the whole time, while I climbed into the back of the truck as quickly as I could manage in all my gear. My heart was racing. I could just see her slipping on the ramp and breaking her leg, or getting stuck somewhere up in the innards of the truck. I coaxed her down into my outstretched arms and lifted her out of the back of the truck, relieved that we had made it through another difficult situation unscathed. I worked my way out of the back of the truck, glad to see that Fama was fine.

"Is that your first time in the back of a garbage truck?" asked Gary, the perpetual smart-ass.

I was petting Fama now, trying to calm myself down. "Yep, first time," I said, putting her back to work. After the search was over, Gary asked me if I learned anything.

"I will never search a group of vehicles off leash again, at least not with Fama."

"Good. That sounds like a fine idea. Now go wash that shit off your boots."

Here's video of the truck incident. It's not the best, but you get the idea.

http://youtu.be/peJkBzdNIvw

 Quote: Duane Hull

Reminds me of training with the Artillery. I much preferred the Engineers. We were usually spared the field in exchange for the barracks, which were a lot closer to the parking lots we were paving.

When combat arms guys go to the field, we seriously go to the field. There is a bond formed "in the suck" that many support guys just don't share. There is something intangible that connects people who lay in the mud for a month with no one but each other.

David, I'll ask her what she means by tighten up the prose.

Yes, absolutely get it down first. Then rewrite and edit. This is great and you are definitely very talented.

Wow that is scary how she crawled up in there!

Maybe I'm beating a dead horse now but yeah any begging for more episodes is more of a compliment than rudeness. That's why I made fun of the fact that we all are like "when's the next one?"