Chapter 20 - An old friend is back.

Police Dog Cara and I go to the Narrows Golf Course for alarm activation at 3am on Sunday 23rd January. This summer means hot humid days and sticky nights.   It is hard trying to get a good day sleep in this weather and towards the end of the week; I am starting to get scratchy through sleep deprivation.  My daughters are young (seven & two) making it almost impossible for them to understand the concept of quiet for Daddy to sleep during the day. 

Our dog van gets very hot in the cabin and I have the windows down to keep air circulating through the van.  This activation at this hour is half way to my home in Te Awamutu, so with a bit of luck the two of us can deal with this job, get home, and get some decent sleep before the sun comes up into full strength.

“Dogs from Operations.”

“Dogs”

“Keyholder has called in to say there has been a burglary at the club and he disturbed the offenders.  They have decamped in a vehicle.  You can stand down if you want.”

“Anything stolen?”

“Yes, but he thinks they have thrown the property out near the Waikato River.”

“Roger.  We will continue and do a property search by the river bank, since we are so close.”

Cara locates property with fresh human scent, and these sorts of jobs are easy ones to improve our statistics.  Every time I get Cara out of the van, I have to report it and we strive for success.

We drive down the Narrows Road hill and the Golf Club is to our left, a white two-storey weatherboard building.  The car park is stones and noisy, a deliberate strategy by the Golf Club to reduce burglaries and vandalism on their facilities.  The Golf Course lies alongside the mighty Waikato River with massive willow trees weeping into the current.  On the bank above the river, is a large stand of pine trees woven in intimate cuddles and whispering to one another. 

I cruise our dog van into the car park.  The Golf Club is a light and the Club Secretary is standing outside the main doors.  Like many called out during the night, he is still in his pyjamas and dressing gown.  My guess is he is about fifty years of age and probably one of the locals who own a ten-acre lifestyle block of land.  I approach and introduce myself, asking what happened and where does he believe the stolen property has been thrown.

After getting the necessary information, I go back to the dog van to get Cara out and I hear the distinctive sound of a Police Holden engine.  I look up to see the night shift Detective turning off Narrows Road and into the car park.  I wait for Paul and stroll over to chat. 

 I explain the offenders have left but the key holder saw them throwing stuff near the riverbank where their car was parked.  I will use Cara to search the area.  Paul wants to know if it is okay to come over once he has talked to the key holder.   Normally other Police stay in their vehicles until Cara and I have started, as I do not want them fouling a possible track.  This is different; Cara is not looking for a track but property and she operates under a different command.

Cara knows by lack of urgency that she is not tracking, but she is still standing up in her dog van kennel, tail wagging and enthusiastic to work.  She is near the end of her career, but her passion, energy and drive is still there as she battles her arthritis and hip dysplasia.  I open her kennel door and the first thing she does is wash my face with her big pink tongue.  Wal, her replacement is in the other kennel.  He is a young pup, but has the traditional German Shepherd colours of tan body with a black saddle image on his back.  He is only six months old and is already bigger than Cara is.  He looks annoyed at the disturbance and just wants peace and quiet so he can sleep.

I grab the lead and Cara knows this means no tracking.  She jumps out the back and heads towards the pine trees.  I command her to start searching for property and her tail wags more furiously.  She is getting to work.  It cannot get any better than that.  I normally do not carry my torch, but for this job, I take it with me.  Under the pine trees, it is extremely dark and so I rely on sound to know where Cara is.  She is systematically working from the edge of the road, back towards the gold course itself.  She darts in and out of the trees.  I marvel at her sense of smell; the pine needles irritate my nostrils and my sense of smell does not match hers. 

We make good progress and are about half way between the road and the golf course when the sound of Cara’s movement stops.  A moment later, I hear a sickening thud.  I flick my torch around and I cannot see her.  I am unsure of what has happened and where she is.  I start calling her to come back and in response, I get a deathly silence.  Where can she be?  She always responds quickly and efficiently to the “come” command.  My torch is going everywhere and I start to worry.

“What’s happening?” queries Paul as he approaches.

“I can’t find Cara,” I respond.

“I told you should have a white dog, we never see her in the dark,” he teases.

I slow my torch movement down and then see part of the bank looks a bit different.  I go over to investigate and see that part of the bank has broken away.  I look over the edge to the darkness down by the river.  The Waikato River is the largest and longest in New Zealand and has claimed many lives over the years.  I hope Cara fell into the river as she is a strong swimmer and then I remember the deathly thud – I had not heard a splash.  I get closer to the edge and shine my torch onto the rocks directly below.  There is Cara lying still on the rocks, still.  I believe my dog is dead.  It is about fifty feet from the top of the cliff to the hard rocks below.  Tears well up within me and I am stunned into silence.  Paul is now beside me with his torch shining on Cara.

We both just stand there in silence.  Cara has caught Paul a dangerous murderer on a past occasion and he is almost as fond of her as I am.  Luckily, Paul never turned his torch off from shining on her and then he yells, “She’s breathing!” 

My watery eyes stare harder at her and I realise he is right.  How can I get down to her?  We start moving along the bank to find a reasonably safe spot.  Paul knows I am emotional and will do anything to get to my dog.  We have been through so much together it cannot end like this.  Paul is the voice of reason.  Even if I find a way to get down to her, how am I getting her back up?  She is seriously injured. 

Paul suggests we get Fire Brigade out with their rescue boat and rescue her from the river.  This makes total sense.  I call on the radio to Hamilton Central and ask them to call out Fire Brigade, explaining what has happened.

“Dogs from Senior,” calls the on duty Senior Sergeant.

“Dogs.”

“I am not calling Fire Brigade out to rescue a dog.”

I am stunned into a disbelief of silence. 

“Dogs to Senior, can you please arrange for a rifle to be sent out and please record it is your decision to destroy an expensive, successful Police Dog.”

The radio goes silent.  Paul and I just look at each other.  We cannot believe what is happening.  We wait for an eternity.

“Dogs, Fire Brigade are on their way.”

Both Paul and I go back to the cliff and shine our torches down on Cara.  She is still not moving beyond her chest erratically going up and down.  The key holder and Paul’s driver arrive.  None of us knew what to say so the four just wait in silence, no eyes coming off the unconscious Cara below.

About twenty minutes later, we hear the vehicle engine noise of the Fire Rescue unit.  The young driver rushes out to the roadside to guide them in.  His face said that finally he could do something useful.

At about the same moment we see movement from Cara.  Not a lot and it is obvious she is in bad condition.  Senior Fireman Graham Magner comes over to me and I explain what has happened.  His crew get a large spot light out and light up Cara.  I think I prefer the darkness.  I find seeing her very distressing.  Graham and his team explore all possibilities.

“Bruce, we can lower me down to Cara, but I have no idea how to get her back up,” says Graham.

I suggest they train me.  Graham explains they cannot legally let me go down on their gear and how would I bring her up.  Paul then suggests putting Cara in her tracking harness and tying the harness to the rescuer.    The consensus is this is the best approach.  To the uneducated, a tracking harness is a confusing looking apparatus.  I do the best I can to explain to Graham how to put her in the harness, but it is hard without a real dog to demonstrate.  I remember Wal is in the van, but has never been in one and is too big for Cara’s harness.  The harness is set for the individual dog and although I could alter it to fit Wal, I cannot guarantee getting it back into the right size for Cara.

We all agree to lower Graham with their winch system and keep the spotlight on Cara.  I can talk Graham through putting it on when he is down there.  The next concern for Graham is how she will react to him.  I promise to keep talking to her to prevent anything happening.  Inside I believe she is so sick she is incapable of doing him any harm.

The Fire Rescue Unit moves as close as possible to the cliff and the arm goes out with the winch on – Graham is in his harness and lowered over the bank.  In a few moments, he is down beside Cara. She tries to stand up, but just falls over.  Graham pats her and she licks his hand.  He then gently puts the front part of the harness over her head.  No one is making a sound.  I suspect most are like me, forgetting to breath.  The river is flowing fast; the silence is still. 

Graham now has to lift Cara to get on the rest of the harness.  In the light, we see Cara gazing into his eyes, not like lovers, but as wounded to the rescuer.  Now Graham almost lies on top of Cara as he ties his harness to hers.  I never realised any of us could go so long without breathing.  Then Graham’s radio cackles.

“Bring us up very slowly.”

The winch slowly revolves. 

“Everything is going to be alright,” he coos to Cara. 

“Stop,” he instructs.  The winch makes no sound and we all wait in anticipation.  The curved nature of the bank means we have lost sight of Graham and Cara.  We see the winch cable swinging a bit and then, “let’s go nice and slow.”  Then “stop”.  Again a lengthy silent wait and “let’s go nice and slow.” 

I then register I need to get Cara to a vet urgently and ask the operations room to call out the vet we use.  I will meet her at the clinic in about forty minutes.

Then slowly we see the top of Graham’s helmet and then Cara.  Graham has his back to the bank and Cara is on the outside.  I rush over to them and we untie Cara from Graham’s harness.  I gently lower Cara to the ground.  She looks up at me and those eyes say, “This is not good boss”.  I ask Paul to help me get Cara her to the van and we gently place her in the kennel.

I go over and thank Graham.  He comments he has a sore back, but is more interested in the state of Cara.

“It’s serious.  I am rushing her to a vet now.  I will let you know how it all went.  I cannot thank you enough.”

I rush to the van and start the journey into the darkness of the night, before the light of dawn.

*************

• Cara is off work for four weeks with a ruptured spleen and lungs and the biggest imaginable black eye.  I part her fur to see the black eye as her fur camouflages it.   The other clue to her black eye is one side of her face is noticeably swollen.
• Graham suffered cuts, abrasions through putting himself between the bank and the dog.
• Four weeks after the incident Cara and I go to the Fire Station so, she can say her own thank you.  She jumped onto the front bumper of one of the engines and then proceeded to lick his face as a thank you.  The local press were present and their headline reads; “An old favourite’s back.”
• Cara got back to full duties temporarily for a few more months before it is my turn for serious injuries.