Fama the AHBD, episodes 3-8

I thought I would catch you all up.  Please excuse the long post, I just wanted to share everything up to where I am in the story.  I also added some pictures (this blog thing is cool!), but they are not all of me and Fama.

I hope you enjoy the read.  Please, feel free to post literary comments as well, such as “This section drags a little.  We need more explanation on this part.”  Whatever you think, let me know.  I would love to make this into a book, and it’s hard for me to write for people that may not have the same experience as I do.  I try and explain things so they are easy to understand, without the story turning into a training manual.  My goal is to convey the relationship I have with my dog, and only explain what is necessary to understand the story.

Thanks for the encouragement everyone!  Happy reading.

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.

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.

Episode 5

I hardly slept that night. Visions of clearing villages with Delta Force danced behind my sleepless eyes. I practiced in my mind, over and over again, trying to see where I could be more efficient so I could keep up with Fama. I replayed the conversations with my trainers over and over, trying to make sense of it all in my fledgling detection mind. Everything was so different than anything I had ever tried to do with a dog before. Allowing the dog to drive the working relationship was alien to me. 

There is a mantra in the detection dog community; Trust Your Dog. Humans have a tendency to over-think situations. Subconsciously, we believe that we can find the bomb with our minds. This is how we problem solve from birth. Humans analyze the problem and think their way to the solution. We feel we are superior to the dog in mental capacity, so naturally we try and beat them to the bomb, forming a mental picture. The problem comes when you try and fit the dog to this picture. If you are sure that the bomb is in location A, you won’t see the dog respond to the bomb in location B, and you might pull the dog off odor; not good in training, but disastrous in the real world.

I understood this from the start. After seeing Fama that first day, and just how proficient she was at her job, I knew it would be arrogant of me to think I could outperform her. This realization helped us grow together as a team because I didn’t try and push her around when she was working. The whole struggle to becoming a good dog team was on my plate, and it was the most difficult thing I had done in the Army to date. The most natural thing in the world is a dog searching for something with it’s nose, and then finding it. When dogs hunted for food, this was the most necessary of skills. So how do I keep up?

The musical kennels routine loading the dogs up was much more efficient than the night before (elapsed time 19 minutes). Look, it was early and we were tired OK. Fama actually seemed; I wouldn’t say happy to see me, but like she wanted to kill me less. She still barked at me through the kennel door, but she didn’t bite it once. I figured it was a sign from the gods. The trip to the kennels from our apartment was much the same as our trip home the evening prior. The banshee was in full force, and she had a full night’s rest driving the torrent of doggy expletives. Sly had resolved to hunkering down in the front seat with his eyes closed and praying for Fama to have an aneurysm. The good news was there was no blood on my face yet, and it was already 6:45 in the morning! 

The first order of business was the “Shit Run.” All 20 dog teams line up with muzzles on and go for a run. This is first thing in the morning, and I know what I do first thing every morning, hence the name. There were dogs and handlers everywhere. Fama and I were doing our tractor pull routine towards the back of the pack, because I’m an old guy and don’t run very fast, and she was not happy about that at all. Some dogs wanted to sprint up front, some dogs were fighting with their muzzles, some dogs barely made it out of the parking lot before popping a squat. All of them took a dump at one point or another along the mile and a half route. It is the responsibility of the handler to always pick up after his dog, so you have 19 guys running along with bags of poop in one hand, and a crazy dog in the other. I say 19 because 1 of the guys puts the bag in his pocket. That didn’t really work out so well for him. Nobody stood downwind of him the rest of the day.

Training moved out of the barn to a location down the road that was a big building with a bunch of rooms built inside it. The rooms were full of old furniture and appliances, and they had adjoining doors so you could make a big loop through the training complex and come back out the door you had entered. The best thing was that we got to observe the other dog teams as they worked so we could learn form their mistakes. A couple of the guys got out their cameras and shot video of the teams as they worked their way through the building. I still have these videos, and periodically watch them if I’m tired of Family Guy and need a good laugh. I looked like Rocky Balboa trying to catch that chicken for Mick. Fama made me look less than horrible, and Gary (you guessed it, another biker guy with a cute oggie-boogie voice), had a few hard earned words of praise for me. I was on cloud 9, and took Fama outside to celebrate and was shaking her head between my two hands. She bit me. I guess I pushed the excitement a little too far. Back in the crate you go, bitch.

The comic relief portion of day 2 was human leash drills. This is how you practice handling a dog without screwing the dog up. You take your buddy and force him to put a leash around his shoulders, yes you have to force him at first because he knows how ridiculous this is going to look, and then hook your leash to his, right at his butt crack. Then the “dog” runs around searching while you attempt to look like a super cool dog guy, directing your “dog” to search, switching hands with the leash, keeping shoulders square to the search pattern, keeping a gentle arc in the leash without letting it get underfoot. It’s tougher than it sounds! So there we are, a bunch of soldiers, in uniform, bent over at the waist with knees bent, sniffing and snorting, trying our best to mimic the erratic movement of a dog while searching. When we found the “bomb”, we would sit on our heels with our butts wiggling like we were wagging our tails, and wait for the ball to hit us in the head. I’m just glad no one got me on video. That is blackmail material right there.

Sly and I decided to run through the Golden Arches for lunch, as it is just down the road from the kennels. The trip there was a now familiar scene with Fama singing back-up and dancing in her crate to the radio. I don’t even know why we had it on at this point, but the good news is I was actually getting used to it. Maybe I’m just blocking out the hatred and violence I was feeling. Only my shrink could tell you. We got to the drive-thru, which was off the road a bit, and behind the building, and Fama quieted down. It was strange, like when you are on the dance floor in a loud bar and the DJ screws up, leaving the air full of silence. Sly and I looked at each other and shrugged. We were beyond surprise at this point. 

We placed our order at the talking sign and pulled up to the window. One of the McWorkers must have spotted the dogs through the first drive-up window (why don’t they ever use that one anyways?) and thought they would be friendly and stick an arm right out the second window, just as we stopped, with a dog biscuit clenched in their McFist. I fail to see the logic, as the dogs are both in kennels, but hey, it was a nice gesture. The arm went right in my window, past my head, and into the back seat. Time stopped right here, as my brain searched the universe for the most likely outcome, discarded several courses of action, and waited to see what would happen. The liter of cola that started in the McWorker’s other hand ended up on the hood of my truck. Nice toss.

Episode 6

We were told by our instructors that after lunch, we were going to learn how to search vehicles, so while polishing off my Number 2 Combo (medium, with a Coke), I was practicing in my head. I was envisioning how to work Fama around a car in the most efficient way while staying out of her way. We have already established that she searches fast, and a geometry problem forms in my head. A car, simplified, is a rectangle. Her search path is going to be just outside that rectangle, and my handler path is going to be outside her search path. I can’t keep up with her when I’m on the inside of a room and have the mathematical advantage, meaning that she travels further than I do. How am I supposed to keep up when she has the advantage? I couldn’t see it happening. Not this old guy.

We returned to the kennels with the windows down so Fama could announce our arrival like Harry (and the Hendersons). We had also discovered that if the windows were down, the sound pressure level inside the vehicle dropped from “Ozzy” to “Garth”. We parked and joined the rest of the group doing human leash drills.

Responding to a “Hoodie Hoo” from Heath, all the handlers gathered around the vehicles in the search area, and opened our little dog handler sponge minds for the block of instruction. Gary and Luchian (the only instructor I haven’t seen on a Harley, but he drives an H2 Hummer like he stole it; touche) briefly explained how to search a car with a dog. Like most things in the dog world, it seems really simple. You start at a corner and work your way around. They didn’t really address the math problem I had in my head concerning the length of my path of travel versus that of my dog, but that’s because neither of them is a nerd. I was picked to be the first victim, so I retrieved Fama from the truck and started my search, realizing quickly why I couldn’t arrive at a solution to my problem using geometry. It’s chaos math all day baby.

We start at the front of the car, and Fama quickly reaches the 90 degree corner present at the headlight of all domestic vehicles, executes a hard left, and leaves me in the dust. She continues the turn-and-squirt pattern around the car. I try to run to catch up and Luchian yells at me to stop running.

“Don’t chase your dog!”

OK, so I slow down.

“Keep a loose leash! Face the car! Shoulders parallel to the search!”

I try and do everything at once and end up looking like The Scarecrow trying to Riverdance.

My brain is trying to process all these instructions while paying attention to my dog, when I can actually see her, doing the karaoke sidestep, untangling the leash from my left hand and trying to get the loop over my right thumb (because that’s where it’s supposed to be damn it) when Fama sits in response to odor, beautifully. I almost ran over her. Then I have to remember how to react properly when she responds; loose leash, turn 90 degrees while getting your ball out, give the STAY command, pay the dog. The only thing I performed correctly was to say “STAY” before I threw the ball. It was a train wreck.

Luchian said, “Not bad.”

I just giggled.

We moved on to the next four vehicles, improving microscopically, but having a really good time. Fama was electric, moving with purpose and grace. Before each vehicle, I would ask her to sit on my left, prepare myself for the search, and give her the search command. While sitting at my side, patiently awaiting the command, Fama would look me right in the eyes, asking permission to go to work. She was so intense, like a drawn arrow, perfectly still, eyes bright and full of desire. I learned to cherish this moment we share before every search. It’s when we need each other the most.

I watched the rest of the handlers work their dogs, making mistakes faster than carbon dioxide, and I learned. You start the search ahead of the dog, by using body position. To get ahead of the dog, you turn her around towards the area of the car you already searched, while you continue in the direction you are still going, switching leash hands as you pass her, and then continue the search. You put the ball in your pocket “just so”, making it less of a wrestling match and more of a natural thing to retrieve it smoothly. The trainers, true masters of their craft, continually encouraged us while offering a steady stream of direction, and it was never regurgitated dialog. They were always locked on; present in the moment. It was obvious that they loved it. Even after teaching the same material for years, they were still engaged with the task, and most of all, the dogs.

The diversity in the group of dogs was astounding. German Shepherds and Belgian Malinois are a given in the working dog world, but there were a vast array of breeds. Labs, Pits, Dutch Shepherds, even a Labradoodle. They ranged from 35 pounds to 90. They differed in personality from Fama, the asshole, to Midnight the goofy Lab, and everything in between. The one thing they shared was drive. They would all crawl a mile through broken glass to get that ball. It is truly amazing to see a super high drive dog in action, especially when that drive is given direction. It makes me wonder why man would try and replace a dog with a machine? It is incredibly vain to believe we could ever replace this purpose driven animal with some electronics.

That evening we returned to the house, tired, confused, and happy, because we sucked. The magic kennel drill went much smoother (elapsed time 9 minutes). I actually attempted the “dog in one hand, kennel in the other” technique. I failed, but it was a good sign that I was even willing to try. Chatsi, a cute-as-a-button spaz Malinois belonging to Scott, was jumping in and out of the kennel while it was still in the back of the truck, grabbing everything she could get her mouth on in the process. She pretty much emptied the back of the truck onto the road in front of the house while Scott tried to get control of her. We fed the dogs and got some dinner. We did human leash drills for dessert, with a side of intense discussion about the day, and dogs in general. We were hooked.

Before bed, I put Fama in her kennel in the back of the truck and just sat out in the driveway with her, reading a book. We sat out there for two hours, just being in the same place. She was on high alert at first, reacting to every little sound or flash of movement in the night with a bark, or at the very least intense scrutiny, but she soon settled down. I listened for her breathing to change to that slow, deep rhythm of rest, and read to her in a soothing voice. Several times I thought she had fallen asleep, but when I stopped reading, she would lift her head and look at me through the vent in the crate, seeming to wonder why I had stopped.

When I went to bed that night, I couldn’t remember anything I read in the back of that truck. The words were a means to an end, not a story. When soldiers experience stress together, they form a bond that is different than anything existing outside of extreme conditions. It is rare in our society for one person to place their life squarely in the hands of another out of necessity. In the Army, we call this person a battle buddy. Somebody that you have shared things with that no one else will understand. You are frightened, angry, excited, in danger together, and because you are together in this, you have strength. Just like the man who surely would have drowned had his faithful dog not pulled him from the lake by his shirt, I was going to owe my life to Fama. That story makes headlines all over the nation because it is extraordinary. Fama and I were going to experience this every day. How lucky am I, I have a battle buddy.

Episode 7

The handlers were getting fatigued from the weather, the new environment, from the constant physical challenge placed on our bodies to do something unfamiliar. Our brains were jello from the constant barrage of information. This was apparent at the line-up for the shit run that next morning. The drawn faces, lack of persistent vulgar banter, tempers easily flaring, everything pointed to soldiers in training. The instructors pushed us as hard as they could because we had a mountain of techniques to master, and a short timeline in which to accomplish this.

We ran with our dogs, stretched out along the right side of the road in front of the kennels, down to a turn around point, where we (you guessed it) turned around and came back to the start point along the opposite side of the road. This created a situation where dogs were passing face to face while running. Some of the more reactive dogs were barking and lunging in passing, creating a situation where we had to apply leash pops to keep the dogs moving in the right direction and focused on the task at hand instead of all the other dogs. Fama was doing very well on the run, trotting along at my side instead of pulling as she had on the previous day, until her buddy Chatsi came along. 

Fama exploded towards Chatsi without any warning. I gave her a good pop on the leash while saying “Foei,” and she turned right around and lunged at me, her teeth snapping just short of my arm, and then ran on as if nothing happened. I finished the run in deep thought, with emotions ranging from anger to confusion. This behavior could not be allowed. I had to work through this with my dog, and I had some ideas on what needed to happen, but I thought it best to bounce it off a trainer first and see what course of action they suggested.

After the run, I gave Fama’s feet a quick inspection, got her some water, and put her up in her kennel. I immediately went to find Heath to discuss the situation, as he had previous experience with Fama and could possibly share some insight on the subject. I found him up by the office having a smoke break.

“Hey Heath, you got a second?”

“Sure buddy. What’s up?”

I hesitated here for a second, wondering what the outcome of the situation might be. Although we had some issues to work through, I definitely didn’t want to have Fama taken away from me in lieu of another dog. I told the truth, figuring Heath would understand that I wanted to address the issues, not trade out dogs.

“Fama has bit me a couple of times, and she lunged at me earlier on the run when I gave her a small correction.” 

Heath smiled. “That bitch. You just can’t let her win, ever, and you will be just fine. You have to be ready to take the fight deeper than she will. It won’t take her long to learn who is boss.” He added a final admonition, “Now don’t injure her. You can’t go kicking the crap out of Fama. Can you handle this?”

“I got it Heath. That’s exactly what I was thinking, I just wanted to clear it with you before it went down. Thanks brother.”

Now I had the tools, the desire, and the permission to handle the “Big Bad Bitch.” I just had to wait for the opportunity to present itself, and I didn’t think I would have to wait too long.

The first training venue of the day was a short road clear along the lane beside the pond at the kennels. This was the first time we had worked our dogs outside and we were excited to see what it was like. The first dog team came up to the lane and got ready to go, with their 30 foot leash hooked to the harness on the dog’s back. The handler, Sean, sat the dog , Fil, next to him and listened to Gary give a brief description of how the search was generally supposed to go. Sean raised his hand and gave the search command. Fil lept to the task, quickly scampering out ahead of Sean, working left and right, searching for odor, occasionally circling back behind Sean to recheck something. In less than 15 seconds, both Fil and Sean were tied in knots that a boatswain’s mate would be proud of. It went from a bomb search to an inter-species game of twister with a leash thrown in for fun. Sean was hopping and twisting, trying to get untangled while Fil continued to trot this way and that, cinching the triple half-hitch deeper at every opportunity. Gary finally called a time out and grabbed Fil by the harness, giving Sean the time necessary to free himself from Charlotte’s Web.

Fama and I didn’t fair any better. It was strongly suggested that we wear gloves while working on a long line, which is handler speak for the 30 footer. I had the impression that gloves were for wimps, so I headed up to the training problem with nothing but a smile and Fama, on her long line. Gary returned my smile, and nodded in permission for us to begin. I gave Fama the search command and she took off like Wile E Cyote getting launched from a slingshot. Luckily I still had a bandage on my hand, so I only got blisters on 3 fingers. About 30 yeards down the road, she circled back behind me and then headed back out. The resulting loop in the leash, around both my feet, combined with the pull on my upper body from Fama, resulted in the most beautifully choreographed, slow motion face plant. I hit the ground with a thud, and Fama came back to see what was holding up progress. She was just staring at me. I could read “douche bag” in her doggie eyes. The whole group, trainers included, burst in laughter. I couldn’t even help from laughing. I noticed when we were finished that several video cameras had appeared in the crowd of observers, hoping to catch the next one for the archives.

After we all completed the road clear, it was time for lunch. We decided to head to the local Chinese restaurant for some grub, and the group of SUVs headed out of the parking lot, jockeying for position in the buffet line. The truck was bouncing around the parking lot again, with Fama in full form, excited by all the passing vehicles. I decided I would get her out and give her a break before we left in hopes that she would settle down before the car ride into town. I was running out of Advil. I reached her kennel and opened the door to let her out, and she lunged right at me. I got a hand on her collar to get some control, but the fight was on. 

We went down to the ground, with both of us fighting for the best position. She bit me once on the arm, but it was just a small bite with her front teeth, and I quickly got my arm back. I rolled over on top of her, maintaining a death grip on her collar, and straddled her body with my knees. This took the fight to an entirely different level. She was just testing me before, but now she was pissed. Her teeth were snapping as she was lunging off her back, trying to get to my face. My ground fighting training took over, and I dropped a big elbow along the left side of her head. I got another small bite out of it as I was pulling back, but I really didn’t care. Heath said win, and I was going to win, whatever the cost. She then grabbed my arm that was next to her face, the one holding her collar, which gave me the opportunity to land another elbow. This one landed with a solid THUNK, and Fama decided she had enough. She started to struggle to get away instead of struggle to bite me. I immediately eased up on her and allowed her roll over onto her belly, and began gently petting the back of her neck, praising her gently in a soft voice. After we both settled down, we were visibly shaking from the adrenalin, I let her up and she came right over and kissed me on the face, with her ears back and tail wagging. Her eyes were softer than before. She was apologizing and showing submission to me, acknowledging me as the boss. I had won a hard fought battle, without beating my dog. We were finally a team. I got a big Fama hug before heading off to lunch. It was a good one.

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.