She lies on the floor beside my bed tonight. Sleeping queitly after giving me her nightly hug and kisses. Her father lies a few feet away and I marvel at the two of them, how different they are, yet how they are so much alike. How she must have gained his courage and his stamina, yet she had so many wonderful qualities that made her uniquely her. My pride for this wee border collie has grown exponentially since the beginning of this year. Tonight she lies beside my bed having achieved her Type II Area search certification in Sparks, NV at the end of May and then only a few short days later, her NNDDA HRD land certification in Beaumont, TX.
She was the fourth pup born of the first litter of border collie pups that were much awaited from my male Pete. She was not breathing and it took vigorous massage to get her going. She was so tiny compared to the other pups, a true runt. "Not bigger than a monkey biscuit" I said with a little disdain. Funny how some goofy thing we say sticks sometimes. Her nickname would become monkey biscuit to which she still responds. Pups so substantially smaller than their counterparts usually have health issues, and sometimes don't make it. But what she lacked in size she made up for in lung capacity and vocal arrangements. Once she started screaming and squealing she didn't stop, as she grew over the next few weeks, she went from yipping to barking..........incessantly.She had an odd bar marking on the side of her neck, my fiance said it was like a little halo, I said it was more like a stripe.......like the bad gremlin stripe from the movie gremlins. I felt it much more fitting to her personality. I think now Halo was more accurate as she has turned out to be a blessing.
However, back then, I mused over which pup to keep, I made it clear, NOT THE ONE WHO SCREAMS all the time.........NOT that puppy. She was scratched off the list of possible candidates. When I held her she wriggled and screamed and just would not settle. She just would not relax trustingly in my hand and I chalked it up to bad temperament.........I did not recognize what I would come to know as a willfulness unlike any other dog I have ever known. She was constantly making some kind of noise in the whelping box. Whimpering, crying, screaming, barking.........but noise. No, this was NOT the pup for me.
At three weeks of age I had already picked out her sister, Cephira, who I would raise to become an accomplished cadaver dog. Phira would go on to achieve her NNDDA certification at 1, NAPWDA HRD at 2, NASAR Disaster HRD at 2 1/2 and NNDDA again at 3 1/2 with her brand new handler, a Sheriffs Deputy from LA. Cephira was my little supastar,..............but at three weeks of age her tiny sister, the screaming little gremlin, stripe, monkey biscuit would get very sick. She began vomiting and continued wrenching even after her little tummy was empty. Having grown up in the beginning of the Parvo era, I quickly retrieved her and headed to the couch where I sat up with her all night till I could get her to the vet in the am. I kept her little head between my hands and held her so she would not choke and slept little. I rubbed her little tummy and talked to her throughout the night. No screaming, which scared me even more........but a soft little gentle look in her eyes, and a contentment I had never seen with her. She slept as I stayed watchfully awake.........by the morning I was hooked. I would keep the screaming puppy against my better judgment. Good thing I don't listen to my better judgment all the time. Turned out to be worms. Everyone was wormed, all was ok.
Her joy for life was evident from an early age. Playing tug, chasing toys, always a gleeful smile on her face and a twinkle in her eyes. Playing with her was so much fun. Sometimes I swore I could almost hear her giggle with joy as we played. Watching her made me laugh. Could it be that the wee monkey biscuit might make a good search dog after all? I was hopeful. Most of all I enjoyed the way I felt when I played with the pup. Something that was sometimes lacking with all the pressure we put on both ourselves and our dogs to perform. I realized that when you loose the fun, you and your dogs suffer. She made me keenly aware of rewarding my dogs better, and so her father benefited from her mere existence in his rewards for a job well done. She was such a joy, I decided to name her Caile after the word Ceilidh which is basically a big Scottish party of music and dancing. I felt it fit her spirit.
Her father was cross trained for which I have always caught a lot of hell. I decided I would train her for live and her sister for HRD. Remember the willfulness? She was like my Alvin, of Alvin and the chipmunks. Calling her for a recall went something like.........caile, Caile! CAILE!!!!!!!!!!!! at which time she would sometimes turn her head in disdain towards me and then slowly make her way to me. Still I decided to follow my fiance's advice and give her the option to be a free spirit. I did not correct her. I bit my tongue. I encouraged her play, I channeled her drive. Her obedience was all positive, her agility was fun. She was both a pleasure and a nightmare to deal with.
I started teaching her to bark on command, preparing her for a career as a disaster dog. I rewarded the slightest little bark. Mistake........she then continued to have little barks, something we would come to call baby babble. Time wore on and try as we might, none of us could get a real BARK out of her. Oh after a few minutes she would eventually bark, but she had to wind up with baby babble to begin with. I was disgusted.
Still, I pressed on, and at six months of age I took her to an open training at a disaster facility in my area. She did outstanding on the rubble as a pup, scaling it with ease. She located a victim and gave her baby babble. They laughed. I shrugged. Maybe as she got older I thought.......She did so well they continued to push her, and I being anxious to catch her up to her sister allowed them too........bad handler, Bad bad handler. They finally placed a victim down in a hole where she had to descend down into a crevice and then into a tunnel to get to her victim. It was a little precarious and looking at it I thought a little difficult for a pup, but hey, I was not the disaster live expert so I thought we would give it a try. She worked the pile nicely, narrowing down the scent cone and then locating her victim, but would not proceed down into the hole. She ended up giving her baby babble at the top of the crevice, looking down into the hole, but refusing to enter. They said,"oh too bad she has no nerve strength." My victim, a friend, heard her barking and came out of the hole and encouraged her down to him and rewarded her. I took her off the rubble pile feeling pretty defeated. I decided to set her aside for a while. Maybe she was just not cut out to be a search dog.........maybe I should wash her. I concentrated on her sister and dabbled off and on with her over the next year.
In 2009, she was 2 years old and doing well at obedience class and no longer required the Dave imitation to achieve a recall. Her ball drive was so strong it was incredible. She hounded me constantly to throw the ball, throw the ball, throw the ball. I decided to start investing some time in her training again. I took her to her first seminar in Little Rock to a disaster workshop. She did everything we asked of her when others would not. My instructor praised her and encouraged me. I was used to her father though, who was balls to the wall anytime he entered a rubble pile. He was quick and efficient. He was exciting to watch. She was not slow, but moved more deliberately yet gracefully across the pile. Still, the words spoken by the disaster expert trainer that day when she was a pup echoed in my head. I finally expressed all these thoughts in my head to my instructor, who then instructed me that going down into a hole is a problem for a more advanced dog, that it was scary for a puppy and that we should have never done it. She said it was an unfair assessment, that there was nothing wrong with this dog's nerve strength and that perhaps not being balls to the wall might keep her from falling off a ledge someday and dying.
I thought about what she said and decided she was right. Pete did sometimes scare me on the pile. I dedicated myself to try harder with the Caile. The draw back continued to be her bark alert. Try as we might we just could not get the bark beyond baby babble. In the fall of 2009 I decided to switch her to HRD concentrating on disaster work as we have had two deployments in 5 years for hurricane recovery work and we live in Texas........hurricanes and tornadoes are always a possibility. Initially, I only exposed her to fresh bone and tissue. No blood, no old bone, nothing that would not be found in the immediate days after a major disaster. Her alert became a dig, as the only bark she would give was..........baby babble.
In March 2010 she certified with NASAR for Disaster HRD Type II. She finished her entire area, finding both hides in less than 10 minutes. She was a joy to watch on the pile, moving gracefully and confidently across the pile. I was proud, she and I were finally getting somewhere. In the fall of 2010, I realized her sister would be leaving us for working home in LA and I would need to step up her work. Knowing that Pete is aging, and I would need a dog as a second behind him that could do all types of HRD I decided I would have to train her on bone too, so in Dec 2010 we introduced her to bone. Each time we worked it was like introducing her all over again. I began to get discouraged and took a break with her while I prepared for her sisters departure. Thoughts of washing her entered my mind again, but like always, something kept me pushing them aside. I also was busy raising a litter of her siblings.
Her sister Phira left in Feb of this year and once Phira was gone she blossomed. I now wonder if we would have gotten past the baby babble early on if I had only had her. Her works became stronger and stronger. I began reading her better and we began clicking. My teammates watched and offered their help, shaping her own unique way of rewarding. She began indicating well on bone, teeth, tissue, you name it, if it was HRD she was going to hit it. I had never trained an active alert like a scratch so I had to learn also to move in when the dog began to alert. I learned how to reward her better and as I did the game became fun for both her and me......a team was finally being born. I know that feeling. I have it with her father and have had for some time. The better we did, .......the better we did. I was pleased with my wee little monkey biscuit hrd dog.
The end of May found me testing her for Area Type II on the spur of the moment. This was done to assist others in obtaining needed evaluation requirements as the intended candidate backed out of the testing. Since she had training for over a year in area, I volunteered so the evaluator could get the credits they needed. We did a quick check with a puppy runaway and to my surprise she ran straight to her victim and began her baby babble. At least she was consistent. Still, I assumed I would be going out for an hour and a half walk. I observed my test area and came up with a plan. Even if she would not do her part, I would do mine. I calculated my wind direction, looked at the lay of the land. It was not my area, it was foothills of mountains with scrubbrush, a few scattered pines, and lots of sage brush, and it was not flat. My part of Texas is flat. A drainage ditch here is elevation change!
My evaluator went through all the official protocol and asked what her final response was, to which I responded she will bow and offer her baby babble bark. Everyone laughed. I then pointed out that I was serious. They laughed again. Not a real dramatic final response eh?
My search strategy was to do a quick perimeter on the downwind side, then cut across the wind in the middle of the search area and see if she showed any interest. I started my dog on the top of the rise at the corner of my search area that was downwind and worked downhill into a draw. I was surprised at the speed at which she took off when I gave her the command "search". She worked well, ranging to the left and right of me, going where I directed her. Disappearing into the brush but checking in from time to time with me as she traversed the terrain. It was somewhat uncanny how well she appeared to be searching. We progressed through the brush, across the drain and then coming upon the bottom of a ridge that went uphill at about a 60 degree angle to my right shoulder. The wind was coming down the ridge and the moment she hit the base of the ridge, she did a head snap and made a 90 degree turn and headed up the ridge. I turned to my evaluators and said, "I am veering off my search strategy and following my dog, I believe she is in scent." My throat tightened and my heartbeat sped up and not because I was climbing. I knew enough to recognize that head snap, the change in animation, the carriage of her tail. I followed. They followed. At the top of the ridge was a tall pine tree and several large boulders. As I topped the ridge, I could barely see the tip of her tail over the boulder, it was wagging. I knew then in my heart she had the victim. As I got closer I could see her. She was facing the area under the pine tree. She saw me and looked at me. We made eye contact and that moment a handler knows occured..........she turned her attention back to the area beneath the pine and she bowed and began to give her baby babble. I turned to my evaluators and said I have an alert. I had not yet seen my victim. I then moved in quickly and there tucked behind another boulder, inside a sleeping bag, under the pine tree was indeed our victim.
Again we went through all the formal protocols and the test was concluded. My little monkey biscuit had just passed her Type II area search test. It only took her about 27 minutes. I was in awe of the little dog. My level of respect for her had just quadrupled in strength. I knew that if we were ever out looking for a body, now for sure she would find it. No questions asked. She had finally proven herself to me. That night she slept on the bed at the hotel, quite pleased with herself I do think. She knew that something had changed with us, as did I. I knew I had a new partner. My fears of not being able to replace her father were absolved. Of course, no individual can ever replace another in the emotional sense of the word, but the little monkey biscuit had earned her place among the other search dogs in the family at long last and I had a new respect for her that will serve us well as a team for years to come.
Despite all that, I had no intention of continuing with her area work. Until of course I came home and my teammates slapped me upside the head. "Get off your butt and train that dog" I believe is what one of them said to me. Still, I had my doubts. I made excuses that I would not be able to hear the baby babble at a distance. They persevered and said, give her a chance. We took her out for her first official training upon returning and hid a victim in the woods blind to us both. I started her at the trucks and let her go. She was gone in moments, into the woods. I entered the woods on a foot path and began moving along. I could hear her working but could not see her. Suddenly, a strong bark echoed through the woods, not baby babble.......then another and another and another. I ran to her through the woods following the echoes of her barks. I arrived and exclaimed reward the dog and her victim came alive with her toy and they played.......oh how they played. And they all said, I told you so............which I think they greatly enjoyed saying and for once, I greatly enjoyed it too. Sometimes, it is good to be wrong.
And so it is..............having put on several pounds during grad school, I do not move as fast as I used to, but perhaps my wee little border collie is also a blessing in that getting off my butt to train her will help me shed some of those study earned pounds. Yes, I guess Halo was more appropriate, though when she gets into the garbage I still think the term Spike applies!
She passed her NNDDA HRD land test only 5 days later having gone from 60 degree weather in Sparks to 100+ weather in Beaumont, TX. She dug and barked and rocked on! We have many miles to go together and once again I am training one of those "dreaded" cross trained dogs. One who could find a subject in 60-80 acres of wilderness area in a terrain and topography she was not accustomed to after flying over 5 hours and a whole day trip in airports, riding a shuttle bus, and elevators with little sleep. Oh yeah, and she also hopped on one of those moving flat escalator things without hesitation and stood proudly by while people gawked. Yeah, come to think of it, I think that handler who told me this little dog didn't have much nerve strength.......well.........to be pc...... I think she was wrong. This dog has great nerve strength, great drive and a great heart.
So, thank you God for the little monkey biscuit, she is a true blessing to my life, and maybe for others she searches for in the future too.
No comments:
Post a Comment