OK PetGazette - The Long Paw of the Law

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You're a burglar, and you're nervous–comes with the occupation. But it's late night, and the dark, silent building is all yours. Or so you thought. Suddenly, headlights appear; now you're really nervous. But you've still got a chance. You're pretty fast on your feet. At least, you can slink into a good hiding place.

Thoughts evaporate when a voice shouts, "You have 10 seconds before I release the dog." Now you're downright scared. You should be. Thing is, the more frightened you become, the easier you are to detect. Fear has its own odor, and, unknown to you, your body is spewing it out like crazy. Raise those hands and come on out pal. The dog will find the source, and if you haven't surrendered, you will regret it.

Sgt. Jim Daves, supervisor of the Oklahoma County Sheriff Department's K-9 Unit, and his partner Ranger face this scenario often. Having spent 22 of his 24 years in law enforcement working with four-legged deputies, Daves has plenty to say about his work–Ranger doesn't. But when Ranger does "talk," people listen.

First impression: big black sheriff's car with big–very big–black German Shepherd emerging from it. Second impression: apprehension. Third impression: his tail's wagging. He wants to play! All the same, if it's okay with you, arm's length.

Daves, also dressed in black, smiles. "Don't worry, our dogs are very sociable. They know the difference. Anybody can pet Ranger. We can go right from a confrontation to a demonstration at a church. At home, he's part of the family, sleeps in the bedroom and plays with our nine-month-old baby. But when I give the word, he's all business."

Say What?

Surprisingly, when the word is given, it's in German. Ranger hails from West Germany, and he's bilingual, recognizing over 20 commands. The K-9 unit is a United Nations of sorts. You might hear Czechoslovakian, Hungarian or Dutch. All the unit's seven dogs come from Europe where there are brokers who specialize in breeding for competition, police and military training.

"They go through about 12 weeks of training there, including basic tracking and handler protection," he says. (Handler refers to Daves. Protection means you'd be well advised not to lunge at him in a threatening manner.) "When they get here, we put them through a 12 to 16 week school. It's a tough course. We hone their tracking skills and teach them to sniff out narcotics or bombs. There's an obstacle course and obedience, building and article searches. They learn recall; if we send a dog after a suspect who gives up, we can call the dog off before he bites him."

High Price, High Value

Somehow, that's comforting. Ranger may double as the family pet, but he's much more. He works for a living in a dangerous, noble cause. And his value has a price. These dogs cost $6,000 to $7,000. Bomb dogs can run $15,000. But, just as with humans aspiring to wear the badge, not all qualify.

"We use shepherds because we find them to be better all-purpose dogs," says Daves. "We used to use donated dogs, but few could make it all the way from yard dog to police dog. And among the shepherds, the breeders look for alpha dogs that are dominating, don't cower, yet are also sociable and trainable. When you buy them, you get a guarantee on their health and performance. Their average life on the street is five to seven years. By then, they've paid for themselves in seizures and apprehensions."

Indeed, the value in drug seizures alone is enormous. And beyond hunting criminals, they track lost children and Alzheimer's patients. They search buildings, fields and woods for murder weapons and lost items. Another smile, "You'd be amazed how many officers lose their keys in foot chases, but the dogs find them."

Then there's crowd control. "Most people will back down from a dog a lot faster than several officers. There's an intimidation factor. They might not mind fighting a person, but they have a fear of getting bit. A 100 pound dog barking and snarling has a tendency to rattle you."

Understandable, even if one isn't aware of the mechanics: a German Shepherd's jaws can exert 500 pounds...yes, that's 500...of pressure. And consider its sense of smell: 220 million cells in the nose devoted to detecting odors, 44 times the number we have.

The Nose Knows

Daves describes the search pattern as a scent cone. It narrows down to the source. Let's say you, the burglar, made it out, and you're running across a field. The dark conceals you, but you're dropping skin flakes, adrenaline is pumping–all adding to the brew. The wind is blowing, but that won't help. It actually aids the dog, stirring up the scent. On a 20-foot leash, he'll track back and forth, narrowing it down.

"He sets the pace," says Daves. "But I've been doing this long enough, I know when he's getting close. His head comes up, and he gets excited. Still, in the dark, with that long a leash, I might not see you. I suggest giving up before he reaches you." If you're foolish enough to take him on, keep this in mind–it's a felony to assault a police dog.

Rigorous training is an ongoing requirement for handlers and dogs. During the primary course, handlers become involved in the last three weeks, allowing them to bond. It's a learning process for both. To become a narcotics dog like Ranger, requires passing a state certification test. And every year, the dog must be re-certified. So training continues, twice a month for eight hours a day.

"In our monthly training, we work on real-life situations–subjects running, hiding, anything we might encounter out there," Daves says with a wave of his hand. "As far as I'm concerned, we have some of the best trained dogs in the state. Of course, all handlers are proud of their dogs. We laugh and say we wish our kids would mind as well as our dogs do."

Law dogs are divided into single purpose and dual-purpose categories. Single purpose dogs are either narcotics, bomb or patrol dogs. The Sheriff's unit has dual purpose, which are patrol dogs with the full range of expertise, plus the ability to detect either narcotics or bombs–not both, for good reason.
"A narcotics dog does what we call aggressive alert," says Daves. "If he finds drugs, he'll scratch and tear into it. A bomb dog does passive alert. If he detects the odor of explosives, he sits. You wouldn't want him aggressively attacking an explosive device."

Ranger is easy to admire–good-looking, smart and, yes, playful. While there's power in his presence, without provocation, you wouldn't suspect a mean bone in him.

Good Dog, Bad Dog

Daves recalls, "Once upon a time, police departments didn't want sociable dogs. The first two I had, hardly anyone could pet them. I was the only one they trusted. They were too vicious. But the thinking has changed. Now, they want dogs that are friendly, as well as capable of attacking. If Ranger got out in public, unless someone threatened me, he'd be like any other dog. You wouldn't know. But with the right commands, he has the potential to change immediately."

In comparative years, Ranger, at four and a half, and Daves, 47, aren't too far apart–still a long way from retirement. But what happens when Ranger's time comes?

"We have the option of keeping them," he says. "I've kept all of mine. Most officers do–there's that bond. When they die, it's like losing a child. And when they die in the line of duty, they receive a full police burial with honor guard and chaplin. They're given the same rights and respect as any officer."

Full honors seems appropriate for these deserving dogs. As you settle in for the night, warm and safe, it's reassuring to know Ranger and others like him are out there. But truthfully now, what kind of partner does he make? After all, how many quality conversations can you have with a German-speaking dog during a long, lonely shift?

Daves laughs with a shrug. "He's a good partner, really. Better than a human in some ways–doesn't tell me which radio station to listen to; doesn't argue over where to eat. And he never complains about my driving."

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