Episode 8

After the 24 of us completely abused the local Chinese Buffet, we returned to the kennels to run another training venue. It was time for us to attempt our first open area searches, and the weather was cooperating, it had warmed up to a balmy 45 degrees and there was no rain. We headed over to a training field and began the afternoon suck-fest.

It was immediately apparent that we had quite a ways to go in the leash control department. Dogs were getting tangled up every 30 seconds or so, handlers were stepping on the leash and getting tied up every time the dog circled behind them. The instructors were always there to lend a guiding hand and poke fun. The atmosphere was always light and jovial. Most of all, we were having fun with our dogs, doing what they enjoyed the most. Finding bombs.

I headed over to Heath with Fama on the long line, and gloves on my blistered hands, to receive my block of instruction. Heath, being familiar with Fama, suggested that I run her off leash.

He said, "She knows what she's doing. Unhook her and put her to work."

So I bent over, unhooked the leash from her harness, stuffed it in a cargo pocket, and gave her the search command. Most of the dogs were making 3 to 4 passes in a grid pattern, getting consecutively closer to the hide until they detected odor. Fama took about 4 steps out in front of me, executed a hard left turn, and snapped her head around, raising her nose to test the wind. She had smelled the hide, and her whole demeanor changed. She was excited and very focused. It was such a beautiful thing to watch her bracket, a term we use to describe the dog working closer to the source of the odor, bouncing from edge to edge of the scent cone as the wind blows it from the hide. She worked her way in a zig-zag pattern all the way to the hide, where she sat, her nose pointed directly at the hide. The only thing moving was her tail, thrashing the long grass behind her. It was so far away, I couldn't even throw her ball to her, so I walked up to a distance I thought was in range and chucked her ball. It was 10 feet short, and the wind carried it off to the right. She didn't care one bit. She took a big victory lap with her ball in her mouth and came back for some lovin' from daddy.

I was so incredibly proud, and impressed. I couldn't stop laughing. She made it look so easy when the other dogs were struggling. We went to the next open area, with Luchian, and the result was the same. I elected to try it on the 30' leash this time, and I did pretty well. Fama had more of tendancy to stay out in front of me, allowing me to keep a little tension on the leash so it stayed out from under her feet. She circled around behind me once, but I anticipated it and stepped over the leash this time, avoiding the double Windsor. Again, she responded beautifully to the hide, and I was sure to walk closer before throwing the ball. I got it right to her, and we had a big party. Luchian just nodded, said, "Hey, that looked great," and walked away.

I finally felt like a dog handler. I came to the conclusion that it was all going to be worth it. Dealing with the barking, spinning, biting, and attitude was just the price to pay for such a great bomb dog. The same things that made her a pain in the ass to live with, made her great at her job. The intensity she displayed towards life, applied in a working environment, was the recipe for success. All I had to do was figure out how to live with her, and everything would be fine.

I started immediately by establishing the rules. Fama, you will sit before going in your crate. You will lay down and be calm before you can come out. You will sit and wait for your food. You will look to me for everything in life, because everything in life comes from me. We did obedience after school every day. We trained on the obstacle course at lunch and before going home at night. I took her everywhere with me in the car. We took long walks around the pond at the kennels, occasionally throwing in obedience commands, but more importantly, learning to operate together with me in charge.

It had an immediate effect on our relationship. I was no longer a challenge to be dealt with, but a trusted leader to be followed. She relaxed around me, and began coming to me without being called. She wanted to be around me. Our evenings in the back of the truck continued, but without the crate. She would lay there with her body against my leg and relax, sometimes sleeping, while I read a book, or worked on my K9 records. I would talk to my wife on the phone and she would listen, giving that cute head twist that dogs do when I would laugh.

Training was more challenging by the day, but she was always up to the task and regularly outperformed the other dogs in class. She started healing by my side during the shit runs in the morning, unless she had to pinch a loaf. We spent our days off roaming through the woods on trails or walking around town. We would train on off leash obedience in a fenced off baseball field that was close to where we lived, always having fun with lots of praise and toys thrown about.

We were evaluated weekly by our instructors, and that always went very well. Both Fama and I worked very hard at our job, and it was really paying off. She was less reactive in the truck and with other dogs. I was becoming much more proficient at being a handler, meaning that I almost never fell down anymore. I paid close attention to everything the instructors had to say, to me as well as to everyone else, and I felt confident that we were going to be a great team if we just kept up the hard work. The month in Indiana went buy very quickly, and it was time to go to Arizona and begin our desert training.

Great!

 Quote: David Winners

Episode 8

unless she had to pinch a loaf.

Such a guy way to describe pooping! lol

"I was becoming much more proficient at being a handler, meaning that I almost never fell down anymore." -This made me laugh.

Episode 9

It is always exciting when you move on to the next step in any training, and the trip to Arizona was no exception. The kennel staff brought a truck and trailer to haul the dogs, and all our gear, to Grissom Air Reserve Base, so we could load up on our very own C17 and make the flight to Yuma Proving Grounds in Arizona. I was immediately reserved about putting Fama in the back of a trailer with 19 other dogs. She was still very crate reactive when daddy wasn't around, but we really didn't have any choice in the matter, so I loaded her up and prayed for the best. We made the trip to Grissom in about 40 minutes, which was more than enough time for Fama to get into trouble.

I was overseeing the retrieval of our weapons from the arms room when I heard my name. I looked towards the flight line and could see several people waving me over so I ran. I could hardly believe my eyes when I got there. Fama had popped her tail open inside her crate again, but much worse than before. There was a solid pool of blood in the bottom of her kennel, and she was obviously not happy at all. Joey, an Army SF dog handler, had her on a leash off to the side of the crowd. He was trying to calm her down, but she wasn't having any of it. There was blood all over her legs and belly, and every time her tail wagged, she would fling a stream of blood through the air. It looked like a murder scene. There must have been 10 people with blood on their clothes and uniforms. I felt terrible.

I immediately went to her and gave her a good once over. Thankfully, the only injury she sustained was to her tail, and it didn't seem to be bothering her at all. She was pretty stressed at first, but quickly calmed down once I got there. The other handlers and trainers were great. They broke down her kennel and washed it out. Heath found some gauze and vet wrap and we did a quick bandage job on her.

I took her away from the crowd, around a corner, and just sat down with her. I was shocked at how emotional I had become when I saw that she was hurt. I am no stranger to injury, on myself as well as others, but this was like one of my kids getting hurt. I could feel it in my guts, the regret at not doing something more to keep her safe, the wish that it was me that was injured instead of her. I took it much worse than she did.

I was relieved to find out the trainers were adamant with the crew aboard the aircraft that Fama and I be placed together. They explained in graphic detail what the inside of their C17 was going to look like if the dog was left without her handler, and they grudgingly made the necessary arrangements for her kennel to be placed directly in front of my seat. The flight went smoothly. I stretched out on the floor right in front of the kennel and we slept our way to Arizona. Aside from her going nuts when they strapped, and then unstrapped, her kennel, Fama was quiet for the whole flight.

Upon landing an Arizona, we had to load the dogs up in their crates, on the back of a big flat bed truck, and transport them to the hotel where we stayed for the duration of our training at YPG (Yuma Proving Grounds). I knew this was going to be trouble, but there was nothing I could do. We had to get to the hotel, and this was our only means of transport. The trip to the hotel seemed like it took forever. I could hear Fama barking the whole way, and I had a good idea of what was transpiring in that crate. We got to the hotel and downloaded the dogs and, sure enough, there was blood everywhere again. Heath helped me get her up into our hotel room and quieted down. I put a sheet (sorry Best Western) over her crate and headed to the local pharmacy for some medical supplies. Heath and I got her all bandaged up again, and he assured me that she would be fine, and that we would see the vet tomorrow and get her taken care of properly. I spent the next 3 hours cleaning blood off every vertical surface in the hotel room.

I made the decision that night that no one was going to tell me what to do with my dog. She was solely my responsibility, and if I would have refused to put her in a situation where she could injure herself, they would have had to accommodate our needs somehow. She could have rode up in the bus with me, on my lap if necessary. I could have done something to protect my dog, and I had failed her. I made a promise to her that night that I would never let anything like that happen again, no matter the cost. I should have rented a car, called a taxi, shit, I should have walked the 30 miles before allowing my dog to injure herself. Don't tell Heath, but I let her sleep up in bed with me that night.

The following morning we loaded up in our rented SUVs and headed to K9 Village, located about 30 minutes outside of Yuma. 3 handlers had been dropped from the course in Indiana, so we had an odd number of dog teams. I took the solitary vehicle, and no one seemed bothered by it at all. Sly was down right ecstatic. The ride was blessedly quiet. We had slowly worked through Fama reacting to traffic, and she was snoozing in the back for the whole trip. We arrived at K9 village, got the low down on where everything was located, and got the dogs put up in their kennels, except for Fama. She was staying with me.

We headed over to the Vet's office to get her tail checked out. I put her muzzle on and headed in the front door, checking in with the staff and getting her weight on the way. It was only a few minutes before the Vet came out to see what was going on with Fama. I explained the situation, and also explained that she was Vet aggressive.

"Oh, she will be just fine. Bring her on in and we will get started. She looks nice to me," said the Vet.

The sarcasm of the situation struck me as comical. Here was a handler, who has worked with his dog everyday for a month, and this Vet, who has seen Fama for a total of 12 seconds, knows more of the dog's temperament than her handler. We headed into the exam room on a very short leash, and took a position in the corner, with me in between the Vet and Fama.

"She will be just fine Sergeant, just let her come over and say hello."

Fama has THAT look on her face, the one that says it's dinner time, and your ass is on the menu. I said, "Look Ma'am, I know my dog, and she is going to go after you if I don't have a hold of her."

The vet launches into and explanation on how restraint builds frustration, and if we would just relax, Fama would be fine. I giggled. The vet continued to encourage Fama to come see her.

"Ma'am, I know my dog, and it would be best if you just let me restrain her, and then do what you have to do."

"Sergeant, I have been a Veterinarian for 4 years and have yet to meet a dog that I couldn't get along with. You bring her over here right now."

"AND ROGER."

I let Fama have some slack on the leash so she could move a little closer. She had death written on her face. I don't know how the Vet could just blindly walk into her like that. The Vet bends down right over Fama's head to scratch under her chin. Bad idea. Without audible warning, Fama launched herself at warp speed right into the chest of the vet. The sound of her muzzle hitting the Vet was like somebody hit a heavy bag with a golf club. The Vet gave a loud grunt / shriek / expletive, and I think she shit her pants too, and landed flat on her back with Fama trying desperately to get to her. I'm glad I was quick on the leash, or the Vet may have been seriously injured. As it was, only her pride was hurt. Now that Fama was restrained, and couldn't get to the Vet, she was barking up a storm right in the face of the Vet. There was terror in the eyes of that poor woman. I giggled again. The Vet excused herself from the room, presumably to change underwear, and count her teeth.

LMAO! Don't you hate it when a person who just laid eyes on your dog sees more than your eyes have seen in months or years with the dog...kinda makes you feel stupid huh?

(Logan doesn't like the vet either....but the chiropractor is ok)

I know I am going to get fired for reading these at work. I check several times a day for the next installment, and giggle, laugh, and groan all the way through it. Several people within earshot have already looked quizzically at me today.......

I hate it when someone won't trust my judgement when it comes to my dog. If I was to come meet Logan, and you said, "Hey, he's not feeling you. You should probably keep your distance for now." I would listen.

Female officers are the worst. They seem to think that their rank will protect them from dog bites. It happened on more than one occasion that I would ask a female officer to leave my dog alone, and I would catch the officer trying to sneak over and get a pet in. She exploded on one Lieutenant so bad, Fama's teeth snapped right in front of her face, that the poor LT was shaking afterwards. I giggled

I have NOTHING against females, and not too much against officers, this is just an observation.

 Quote: Deb Collier

I know I am going to get fired for reading these at work. I check several times a day for the next installment, and giggle, laugh, and groan all the way through it. Several people within earshot have already looked quizzically at me today.......

I'm glad you're enjoying the read Deb.

<giggle>

<snort>

Cleaning wine off the moniter....