Episode 3
Here is a disclaimer for the PetsMartians (thanks again Tresa Hendrix), and anyone else not familiar with working dog handling. Sometimes you have to take a dog's air away to get it to let go of something. Some dogs have so much prey drive that they will not let go of a ball, or sleeve, or person, willingly. To get whatever it is that you want out of the dog's mouth, you have to choke them, taking away their air supply, until they let go of said object. On paper, this seems cruel and abusive. In person, you quickly understand that it doesn't bother the dog at all. They are not in pain, scared, or intimidated one little bit. In fact, it is quite the opposite. It is standard procedure to take a dog off strong, by utilizing a flat, choke or prong collar, until the dog has learned the "Out" command.
The first lesson we got concerning ball retrieval was to watch Eddie guide a dog to his left hip, do some quick manipulation of the flat collar, tuck a loop of leash into his left hand while getting a bull rider's grip on the flat collar with that same left hand, lift and twist with the left hand while easily retrieving the ball from the dog's mouth with the right. Elapsed time, 6 seconds. It sounds kind of simple. It looks even simpler. It's not. Have you ever been to one of those Japanese teppanyaki restaurants, where the chef throws a shrimp up in the air and slices it in half with a flick of his wrist, with it landing on your plate already sauced and ready to eat? That guy doesn't hold a candle to Eddie.
I take Fama's collar in my left hand, trying to mimic the deft movements of my trainer, flip in a loop of leash (elapsed time 10 seconds), lift and twist with the left and grab the ball with the right. Not right (elapsed time 20 seconds). Fama looks at me with a devilish grin and just wags her tail. I think
Hey! I am a pretty strong guy. Lots of years working construction, playing bass (guitar, not large mouth), riding bikes. I'm taking this ball! So I give it the best I've got, pulling hard on the ball, with what I think is a sure-fire winning extra little twist to the collar. The only thing that moves is Fama's smile. She's really enjoying this, and that kind of bothers me. Re-grip, and go at it with some gusto! Nothing but some slaps on the butt with her tail that somehow mock me into frustration (elapsed time 2 minutes). Finally, with some help (and wise cracks about my manhood) from Eddie, I get my ball back. The rest of the repetitions were much the same, with some slow improvement on my part. It was then that it really hit me. I had a lot to learn.
If you were to watch a skilled handler performing detection work with his partner, you may think it is a simple thing, and in theory it is. You direct the dog to a search area and stay out of it's way. You maintain a loose leash and make sure the dog searches everything in the area. It is simple in the same way that dunking a basketball is simple for Michael Jordan. There are a thousand little movements that happen all in concert with one another that culminates in a fluid motion. The handler just glides along with the dog, changing leash hands as necessary, directs the dog when it misses something, and generally just stays out of the way while performing quality control.
When we first started working, my body couldn't keep up with my mind, which in turn couldn't keep up with my dog. Fama searches fast; really fast. I was going left when she was going right. I was hunched over like a wrestler, trying to out maneuver my dog. All the while, Eddie was standing behind me gently urging me to do the right thing, so I'm trying to react to Fama, trying to do what Eddie is telling me, and trying not to fall on my face because I'm now wrapped up in the leash and my dog is indicating on the training aid.
During the early days of training, the aids were fairly large and the rooms fairly small. This resulted in the hides being very easy for an experienced dog to locate. Upon entering a room, Fama would go straight to work, leaving me in a position of following instead of leading. I could have been in the room next door reading Guns and Ammo for all she cared. This is strange to a person who has trained countless dogs to heel. I'm used to a dog paying attention to the slightest of movements from me, and now I have to learn to heel to her!
Throughout this whole first training day Fama was a consummate professional responding immediately to commands related to searching, and reacting instantly and decisively to the presence of odor. She was in her moment when working, constantly displaying that she was made to do this job. Her focus and determination reminded me of Bruce Lee; seriously intense. I, on the other hand, spent the day trying to keep up. I felt as awkward as I looked, typically 3 steps behind Fama, going the wrong direction with the leash in the wrong hand. I definitely had some work to do, but as per instructions, I was sucking with the best of them. Mission accomplished; time to go home.
While in school, we resided in some older 3 bedroom houses that are located about 25 minutes away from the school. After some administrative stuff and receiving our shiny new working dog equipment, it was time to go home and take care of our new best friends. We loaded up in our SUVs with our dogs in the kennels in the back and headed towards home. There were 2 handlers and dogs per vehicle, and my buddy Sly was lucky enough to have been paired up with me. We have similar tastes in music, and we share a dry sense of humor. Both of us enjoy some quiet time during our car rides, taking advantage of the opportunity to reflect on the day.
Fama crushed all hopes of peace like a milkbone under a steamroller. She barked like a banshee at Sly with her head mere inches from his. At one point he exclaimed, "I can feel her breath on my neck, and it terrifies me!" Every car that we passed induced a violent spin maneuver that threatened the stability of my mind. The sensory overload I was experiencing was like nothing I had ever imagined. It hurt to be in that truck. It was so uncomfortable that I started to laugh. At some point on the way home, she broke her tail open on the side of the crate and started flinging blood around the vehicle interior. I think something broke inside Sly that day. He's never been the same since.
All that remained of the days activities was getting the dogs into the garage, inside their respective kennels, grooming and feeding. I thought the day was in the bag.
Re: Fama the A$$hole Bomb Dog (Episode 1)
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