Episode 4
Military Working Dogs experience a lot of small, nagging injuries. They break toenails, get little cuts on their pads, sometimes they even break a tooth. Many times the injured dog has such a high pain tolerance and drive to work that these injuries go unnoticed throughout the course of the day. The majority of dogs used in this type of work are German Shepherd Dogs or Belgian Malinois, which are both long haired breeds. Because of this, a daily health check and grooming session are mandatory, as outlined in the Army Regulation that governs Military Working Dogs. The Army has a Regulation for everything.
The health check includes checking the eyes, ears, nose, mouth, body, extremities, and genitalia for anything out of the ordinary. This check is performed every day so the handler will notice the smallest of problems at the earliest of onset, keeping the pooch in tip top working condition. You will notice that the list of inspectable items includes some very up-close-and-personal locations on the dog. Grooming also puts you in close proximity to the business end of your brand new friend (with teeth).
Sly and I navigate through the neighborhood in which our duplex is located with the truck rocking back and forth to the rhythm of a spinning dog. Of course there would be cars parked along both sides of the road all the way to the house. That's right, not even parked cars were safe. I tried stopping; she just barked at Sly instead of the traffic, and I was afraid he was about to do something drastic. I tried yelling "FOEI!(pronounced fooie)" which means bad dog, to no avail. Brake checks just bounced her around, giving a few seconds of respite, until she caught on and planted her feet against the kennel walls. We decided it was best to just get home. We backed into the driveway, where our roommate was standing with his dog Chatsi, and began the game of musical kennels.
When an experienced handler, with all the cool guy moves, gets a dog and their crate out of a vehicle, it is a simple affair. They open the kennel, apply leash to dog, ask dog to come out of the kennel and sit someplace out of the way (which of course it does), close the kennel door and remove the kennel from the vehicle. They then walk with the kennel in one hand and the dog in the other to wherever they need to go, including Starbucks if so inclined. None of us were that guy. Somebody came up with a plan, and I'm sure it was a good one, but I couldn't really comprehend anything through the bark - spin party going on in the back seat, so I chased down 3 Advil with a Red Bull and got out of the truck with a sigh.
The first thing I did was get Fama out of the kennel, without getting bit (YAY) and take her to the back yard to do her business. I was so relieved the trip was over I just had to take a minute and relax. Fama relieves herself in several locations, dragging me along behind her like a parachute behind John Force. I didn't even care at this point, until a neighbor dog, 27 pound mixed breed, decided we were on his turf and that it was his job to run us off. Fama immediately had other plans. I reflexively grabbed her collar and started moving away from the neighborhood watchdog, and towards the front of the house. This dog, which is loose, just keeps coming. Fama was going nuts trying to get to this dog. I'm just happy her focus was on the other dog and not my arm which was definitely in chomping range. We changed roles, Fama is the chute and I am John Force, and we made it back to the front of the house without the little dog.
Now we had 3 dogs out, 3 kennels in trucks, and a closed garage door. Scott, who is ever prepared for anything, produced a stake out chain, from where I will never know, hooked Chatsi to the porch post, ran through the house and opened the garage door. He then grabbed his kennel and put it inside the garage, into which Sly put his dog, Argo. Sly retrieved his own kennel from the truck, into which I placed Fama. I then put Fama's kennel in there and Scott put Chatsi away. We looked like a NASCAR pit crew! We all looked at each other like we just solved the riddle of the Sphinx. The realization of our stupidity slowly sank across our faces as we pieced the sequence of events back together in our heads. Without saying a word, we all got our dogs out into the front yard and then paraded them back into the right kennels (elapsed time 3 weeks).
Scott and Sly decided to change into some comfy clothes, so I thought I would take advantage of the alone time in the garage and groom Fama. I got out the rake, and my personal favorite brush, and walked over to her kennel, knelt down and looked through the door. We spent several minutes looking at each other. Neither one of us made a sound. It was like we were feeling each other out. We weren't at the kennels anymore, we weren't working, we were just sharing the same space. We were figuring out that we had to live with each other, and that we had better make the best of things. I reached out, turned the kennel latch and opened the door.
I wasn't anxious or concerned, nor did I have any expectation of what was going to happen. It was like someone let the tension, my tension, out of the room. Fama came out, gave a big stretch, and kissed me right in the face. I reached up with my bandaged hand and stroked her head. We spent about an hour out there grooming each other, taking turns. I would brush, she would sniff and give an occasional lick. I checked her teeth, and she let me. I dug some goop out of her ears and checked her feet and tail. When we were done, she put her front feet on my shoulders as I was kneeling in front of her, let her legs slide behind me, and buried my face in her broad chest. This has since become known as a Fama hug, my favorite form of doggy affection.
Re: Fama the A$$hole Bomb Dog (Episode 1)
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You have successfully drawn us in and your detail paints pictures that are easily visualized for some of us that have never had experiences like yours. I'm so glad you decided to share it with us.
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