I attended a function with my brother and one of his friends, Tom who is boasting about a fantastic guard dog he owns. According to him, there are many house burglaries in his area and protection of his family is important. The house burglary situation is news to me, but I only work for the Police and do not know this problem area. In this discussion, I keep quiet, on the outside, as my inner head remembers the hundreds upon hundreds of hours spent in training Police dog Cara and our experience. Even when operational, every day I spend at least twenty to thirty minutes grooming Cara and a minimum of one hour on training exercises. In my mind, I am very cynical about how good Tom’s guard dog is in reality.
About two months after the conversation with Tom I attend a prowler complaint in the Enderby suburb of Hamilton. The complainant heard a crashing noise in his back yard and curious he goes outside in time to watch a “shape” disappear over his wooden fence. The house is a standard New Zealand weatherboard one, concrete driveway up the side to a tin garage at the rear. The painted house is traditional white, with the colour determined on the windowsills. The usual five-foot timber fence protects the house from invaders.
Cara and I arrive at the scene and I go to the back of the Police Utility dog van and get Cara out. She always checks which equipment I take out of the van because for her that is a clue as to what is going to happen next. I put her choke chain over her neck and grab the leather tracking harness hanging in the back of the van. Our next step is to go and talk to the complainant and find where he last saw our “offender”. I am not interested in the details, as an incident car will get those. I want the information as to where to start tracking as quickly as possible. Time is precious to a dog and handler team. This is not the time for small talk; I want to get started.
Cara is in the down position beside me while I talk to the complainant. Her jet-black tail is wagging with anticipation and she raises her shiny head to try to air scent. She knows by me having the tracking harness what is going to happen next. I stand her up to prepare for tracking and put her between my legs as I take the choke chain off her neck. If I do not hold her, she will just take off and start working. The lead and choke chain tied around me for ease of carrying while tracking. Cara is fidgety; she hates the delays and just wants to start her work. Her tail thumps against me as I quickly slip her harness on. As soon as the last strap is connected, she knows I will release her and she instantly starts casting around for the freshest human scent.
Cara knows the limits of the system; connected to the tracking harness on a thirty-foot rope. She castes at a racing pace; for her the fun starts once she finds a track. Her tail is high, wagging with enthusiasm and her nose is sucking air through to differentiate all the different smells until she locates the right one. She is so determined she almost cartwheels when she hits the scent. It is always comical to watch as she hits a fresh scent, as her first reaction is one of amazement. Cara has to decide which way is forward on the track and she only has a few seconds to make that critical decision. We do not want to go back to where the offender came from; we want to go forward to where he/she might be now.
The darkness is our friend. Cara being jet black merges into the night. She is fast and silent. We fly over the fence with ease and Cara is onto a strong track. We quickly cross the neighbours property and then over their boundary fence. Cara has her head high, indicating the scent is strong and easy for her to follow. My size eleven boots are harder to keep quiet than her nicely padded paws. We both love catching offenders unaware; they have not heard or seen us coming and this track has indications we might have another catch on our hands.
After four more properties, arriving at a higher fence, Cara is poised to go over six foot high walls with ease and she does not miss a beat. The training of Cara works a treat for her, but no one thought to train me how to climb such barriers silently and how to cross quickly. I make more noise than I like crossing this particular fence and as I fall down on the other side, I watch Cara jump over this dog sleeping in the driveway. I scramble to my feet and jump over the same motionless dog. Obviously, the offender has done the same.
Cara is getting ahead of me, even though attached through the tracking line. I start to pull her back in so I can catch up. She hates slowing down, but knows what is going to happen next. Her tail is wagging so hard I wonder if it will disconnect. When I finish reeling her in, I unclip the rope from the harness; she is free to track at her own pace.
Across, through the back of a few more properties she races along and then out onto a side street. Suddenly she is circling, indicating she has lost the track. The obvious answer is the offender has some sort of vehicle at this point.
I call up the patrol car that is in the area and advise them what has happened. They follow up with the enquiry work. I have a game and play with Cara as a reward for her good work. After a few minutes of play, we start the walk back to our van. We do not go through the back of the properties, but rather walk along the street.
As we walk along the footpath, playing a game together, me grabbing her tail and she spins around pretending she is going to bite me. After doing that once she keeps a watchful eye on me as we dance down the street together. I remember the dog in the driveway. Nothing special about the dog; this is not the first time we have tracked over a sleeping dog, but something about this one is making my mind spin.
The houses look different from the street to the sight we see when tracking through the back of properties. I then recognise where we are. I have only seen Tom’s house from the road and sure enough when we get to his house, there on the driveway is the dog, still sound asleep.
I caught up with Tom a couple of weeks later.
“I went to a prowler complaint in your neighbourhood Tom.” I mention.
“I heard the neighbours talking about it –did you catch him?”
“No a car was used.”
“Where did the offender run through?”
I explained the track to Tom and the dog that was asleep in a driveway. He burst out laughing that someone’s dog could sleep that heavy.
“My dog would never sleep that heavy,” chortled Tom.