I thought this was funny enough to share with you all. This was written and posted on a SAR list. Keep in mind that it is supposed to be humorous...

"So it is, with no small amount of jocularity (keeping in mind that in every bit of humor lies a nugget of truth), I offer to you Slatto's Index of Suspicion for Evaluating SAR Canines & Handlers. The presence of one or more items on the list does NOT necessarily mean the canine team standing before you isn't any good. However, the more items you see, the more you should be suspicious, and the more digging into the team's background you should do. Here we go...

1. INCREDIBLE NUMBERS OF FINDS. If we added up the numbers of finds claimed by all the dog handlers in North America, the sum would be greater than all the people who have gone lost or missing in recorded history. Working a case where the subject was found while the dog was within a five-mile radius does NOT equate to a find for the dog! A good dog may go its entire career with no more than one or two true "finds." Some good dogs NEVER get a true find. If the handler is claiming "hundreds of finds," by the handler himself or the dog, ask for more data. Who? When? Where? How can I contact the responsible agency and confirm this?

2. THEY'RE A LEGEND IN THEIR OWN MIND. "My dog found Jimmy Hoffa, Amelia Earhart, Pocahontas, and the Unknown Soldier." If the only source of information about the team's capability is the team itself, beware. The handler should be able to give you contacts of official agencies with whom they have worked who will vouch for them. If they "promise" results, they're lying. And if they spend more time talking to the media than talking to you or working their dog, fire them and find another team who knows what the primary mission is: Find the subject. Above all other things, the dog and handler have two responsibilities: The dog must detect the scent of the object you seek; and the handler must recognize when the dog is detecting it. Without those two, the fact that the dog can respond to hand signals, shoot a compass bearing, and make coffee all while humping your leg is irrelevant.

3. THEY CALL YOU FIRST. Cold sales calls from a canine team should be treated with the same suspicion as they would coming from a telephone solicitor or a man in a plaid sportcoat standing on your front porch holding a briefcase. Newly formed teams may need to do some marketing. There is nothing wrong with that, but their style and manner should discretely communicate quiet competence and confidence, not sell used cars.

4. A "SECRET FORMULA" FOR TRAINING. A good handler should be able to explain, clearly and concisely, how they train, how OFTEN they train, why their training works, and how their training is in keeping with recognized best practices. They should also be able to prove that they DO train. If they claim a "secret" or "proprietary" method of training that they are not willing to share, run the other way.

5. A BIG BAG OF REASONS WHY THEIR DOG WON'T PERFORM. A team of four-wheelers on that distant bluff. A nearby team member is smoking a cigarette. There is no distilled water available for their dog to drink. The wind is from the west on a Tuesday. Beyond trying to optimize environmental conditions for their dog, if the handler makes myriad excuses why their dog doesn't seem to know its a-- from green paint, that's a red flag.

6. FLAMBOYANT NAMES. The good dogs I have worked with had names like Lacey, Abe, Otter, and Amos. If the dog is named One-Eyed Sally, Three-Day-Drunk, or Slap-My-A---and-Call-It-Mayonnaise, your eyebrows should go up. (See Item 8, "Nanook of the North" below.) But then again, "The Legendary Molly" doesn't have quite the same ring to it as "The Legendary No-Neutered Sam," does it?

7. ONE BIG OPERATION MAKES THEM AN EXPERT. There were dozens of dogs in New Orleans and at the World Trade Center. There were also some dogs and handlers who maybe shouldn't have been there. There are also outstanding canine teams who have never been to a search of national prominence. Presence at a national disaster does NOT automatically convey capability through osmosis! If they hang their hat on the fact they were present at the Last Big Thing, find out how they got there, as well as what Little Things they've done that resulted in helping a subject. Then, refer to the other items on this list.

8. "NANOOK OF THE NORTH" APPEARANCE. The best handlers I have worked with were regular people. French Voyageur clothing, swashbuckler hats with pheasant feather plumes, and three feet of facial hair are not necessary to be a good handler (or coveralls and a vest that would look right at home on a Third World Dictator). Any handler is entitled to their own unique personal "pizzazz," but the farther they stray from mainstream, the more you should wonder. Are they a capable team, or are they marketing an image? Are they looking for the subject, or media exposure? Looking like Gandalf from "Lord of the Rings" does not add to the effectiveness of the team.

Best regards,
Rick Slatten
Duluth, Minnesota, USA"

Another equally hilarious evaluation by the same author:

By way of another discussion list, our group was recently made aware of a news story done on a husband/wife dog handling team who reside and operate not too far away from us. The pair's claim of "nearly 80 finds" by one of their dogs touched off a spirited discussion of "SARPedness." "SARP" is an unflattering term that means "Search And Rescue Puke," used to describe those overzealous wannabe types who, shall we say, take themselves too seriously, and in doing so often embarrass themselves and our profession. SARP was coined long ago by one of the instructors who certifies our canines and handlers. It fits a few of the people we encounter in our travels, and has become a well-known, if not commonly-used term in our circles. So, in the spirit of introspective jocularity, and recognizing that in every bit of humor lies a nugget of truth, I offer to you "You might be a SARP," with deepest apologies to Jeff Foxworthy and his "Redneck" series. (Note: If you find the word "Puke" distasteful, there is another Yiddish p-word that works just as well in its place.)

Here we go...

If there are red lights and a siren on your lawn tractor, personal ATV, or fishing boat, you might be a SARP.

If the length of your beard is greater than the length of your dog's lead, you might be a SARP.

If you've ever started a bar fight by arguing over which extrication tool brand is better, you might be a SARP.

If you hang out at cop-approved restaurants, waiting to invite yourself to join officers at their table, you might be a SARP.

If you've ever asked your spouse to wear a SAR uniform during lovemaking because it "makes you hot," you might be a SARP.

If you've ever begun a debriefing with the words, "There we were...flat on our backs...thought we were gonna die...", you might be a SARP.

If you've ever ended a piece of correspondence with the words, "that others may live," you might be a SARP.

If you carry your rescue pager on a family vacation to Disneyworld (unless, of course, you work for Orlando Search and Rescue), you might be a SARP.

If you claim a "find" because your dog was within a five-mile radius at the time the subject was found, you might be a SARP.

If you claim a "find" because your dog "would have found him," you might be a SARP.

If the arrival of the new Gall's catalog makes you slobber more than your dog, you might be a SARP.

If your uniform shirt can stand up on its own from the stiffness of all the patches you have sewn to it, you might be a SARP.

If there exists anywhere in your house a T-shirt screen-printed with the words, "Life or Death: I am the difference!" you might be a SARP.

If applying oxygen to a patient means you "saved their life," you might be a SARP.

If writing down a patient's name, age, medications, or taking their blood pressure means you "saved their life," you might be a SARP.

If there are a pair of handcuffs dangling from the spotlight handle of your rescue truck, you might be a SARP.

If your personal vehicle has more SAR decals and stickers on it than a marked squad car, you might be a SARP.

If you parade your dog around Staging in his "Search Dog" vest, you might be a SARP.

If listening to the scanner as local Law Enforcement runs license checks is an orgasmic experience for you, you might be a SARP.

If you, in violation of state law, keep a red light in your personal vehicle, and defend the action by saying, "...but I save lives!" you might be a SARP.

If you keep a length of brightly colored utility rope (purchased at the Farm & Fleet) tied to the top of your pack because it looks like climbing rope, you might be a SARP.

If your partners (or 911) refer to you as "Mr. Radio," you might be a SARP.

If you insist that Check-In log your dog into the operation by her AKC name, "Dame Edna Search Magnificence of Hillshire Farms," you might be a SARP. (In the field, she goes by "Floyd.")

If you've ever claimed an "assist" from watching a SAR story on
television, you might be a SARP.

If you've ever worn reflectorized coveralls to church, grocery shopping, or to the movies, you might be a SARP.

If blaze orange shirts were the attire for the groomsmen at your
wedding, you might be a SARP.

If you've ever told a war story that follows the basic theme... "I arrived to find the call all screwed up and plagued by mismanagement, and I crawled over the trail of shattered corpses, weeping managers, and criminal negligence to save the day..." you might be a SARP.

If you've ever continued to a scene after being cancelled so that you could say you "worked" the call, you might be a SARP.

If you carry your new GPS around the house because you "want it to become an extension of your own hand," you might be a SARP.

If you're at the cabin, and you don your search pack to walk to the outhouse, you might be a SARP.

If your SAR certifications and your dog's name appear on your business cards, your personal checks, or are tattooed anywhere on your body, you might be a SARP.

If your SAR certifications and your dog's name appear in the signature block of your emails, you might be a SARP. (Who typed the email, you or the dog?)

If you've ever driven 20-over the speed limit in your POV after being cancelled because you're "only a couple of minutes away," you might be a SARP.

If you claim a "secret" or "proprietary" method of training your dog, you might be a SARP.

If you've ever made a radio broadcast with more than four acronyms or 10-codes in a single sentence, you might be a SARP.

If you spontaneously call in stalled motorists (without stopping to help), weather reports, and road conditions to Dispatch on your rescue portable, you might be a SARP.

If you keep a pressed pair of camouflage BDU's in your closet "just in case..." you might be a SARP.

If you have an endless list of reasons why the ground team behind you found the subject in the segment you and your dog just worked, you might be a SARP.

If you've ever worn a helmet for an indoor on-camera interview, you might be a SARP.

If 911-Dispatch has a pet nickname for you like, "Comm Van," "Rescue Ranger," or "Skywarn Skippy," you might be a SARP.

If your description of your dog's alert behavior is, "I just know..." or "I can just tell...", you might be a SARP.

If you wear your Mustang PFD jacket with "RESCUE" emblazoned across the back to a fancy restaurant for a dinner date with your spouse, you might be a SARP.

If you keep a double-sheave, prusik-minding pulley in a pouch on your belt for a trip to the supermarket, you might be a SARP.

I fished my Kevlar undies out of the drawer for this one...enjoy.

Best regards,
Rick Slatten
Duluth, Minnesota

 Quote: konnie hein

If you insist that Check-In log your dog into the operation by her AKC name, "Dame Edna Search Magnificence of Hillshire Farms," you might be a SARP. (In the field, she goes by "Floyd.")

Well- given that you tend to shorten some things over the radio, doesn't that mean dispatch would start calling for that "Dam Dog"?

Just a nugget of truth, eh?

Just out of curiosity, what charactoristics are you looking for in a poetential SAR dog?

 Quote: dennis jones

Just out of curiosity, what charactoristics are you looking for in a poetential SAR dog?

This should probably be in a separate thread, but here's a link to an evaluation that we use for adult, green dogs:


http://www.disasterdog.org/forms/training/brownell_marsolias_hawn_scale_sept2000.pdf

This evaluation is geared towards disaster dogs, but I think any SAR dog should meet these criteria. Shorter versions of this evaluation exist, but this pretty much describes everything we're looking for in a canine candidate.

To steal a quote from a good friend: "Search dogs must possess intelligence, agility, perserverance and dedication, but their most important quality is courage." -E. Kreitler, VATF-1