Poppy wants to be a vet when she grows up and I’m happy that her upbringing may shape her future in such a tangible, positive way.
6. New Beginnings
The Life of a Service Dog
As the sunlight bathed my skin, I took a step back and looked at the field before me. I was a police officer and, having spent years on the front line, at that moment I was one step closer to my dream.
My mentor handed me a lead. ‘This time, you track the field, Emma.’
Before I had a chance to react, the lead in my hand became taut and the German Shepherd at the end charged forward. Malley, a general-purpose police dog and one of the best with Northamptonshire Police, expertly manoeuvred around the training field, tracking footprints and items of clothing that had been planted hours earlier by my mentor Pete to replicate the work required on a crime scene.
Pete was a legend in the field of training special dogs like Malley, and had taken me under his wing in the hope that one day I would become a dog handler too. I felt privileged indeed. We moved quickly around the field, Malley pulling me forward, picking up clothes and other clues along the way.
‘So that’s what it feels like to be one of a team,’ I said to Pete, when we’d completed the course.
He laughed. ‘Yes, something like that.’
In that moment, I wanted the job more than anything in the world.
I continued training with Pete in my spare time, using my leave days to build my knowledge and learn key skills in preparation for when a vacancy might come up on the dog-handling unit. I watched Pete train his dog and he showed me what it meant to take on this lifestyle. Because that was what it was – a lifestyle, as much as a job. Malley was Pete’s dog for work and at the end of each shift he took her home with him. That special relationship between a handler and their dog was one of the many reasons officers lucky enough to join the team rarely left.
After five years, I had my chance. When the vacancy bulletin went out for a new member of the dog unit in our force, I was one of fifty officers to apply. There was a written application, fitness tests and exams, then an interview. In my time with the force, I’d worked on everything from the Criminal Investigation Department, automobile crimes, the ANPR (Automatic Number Plate Reader) team, drug crimes and as acting sergeant, and hoped my experience would give me an edge over the others, who were just as eager to get the job. I went into that interview armed with knowledge and experience but with a bellyful of butterflies.
I was the lucky one.
I soon met the dog who would be my full-time partner, a German Shepherd called Willis. We trained together for twelve weeks, learning all the skills we needed before we were operational and ready to go out on calls, although Willis would receive continual training throughout his career.
The work was everything I had dreamt it would be. Willis and I went to all sorts of jobs, from burglaries to crime scenes to searching for a missing person. It was exciting and exhilarating.
Eighteen months passed and my line manager told me I would be taking on a second dog, this time a specialist dog that sniffed out drugs, arms or large quantities of money. It was likely to be a Springer Spaniel because the breed is especially well suited to the work. A Springer’s obedient temperament and their hard-working nature make them perfect for what we had in mind. This time I would help to search for the right dog.
I sat down with my iPad, pulled up a new search on Google and typed in ‘rescue dogs’. Then I read about the centres near Northamptonshire Police HQ. When my search yielded no results, I began to look at breeders. I made dozens of calls and told everyone I came into contact with that we were on the lookout for our newest recruit.
Two weeks later, no closer to finding my new partner, something occurred to me.
I returned to Google and typed in ‘Battersea Dogs & Cats Home’. As I clicked through the various pages of the website, I came across Keith Payne, the service dog manager for the Home.
I rang Keith to hear a bit more about Battersea’s service dog programme. I learnt that, from the thousands of dogs that come to the Home’s three sites each year, the team at Battersea keep an eye out for particularly smart dogs who love to play ball or tug games, and are between six months and four years old.
Some breeds have inherent traits that make them excel in certain fields – for instance, the Rottweiler’s strength, guarding instinct and confidence make them excellent security dogs. Keith told me Border Collies, Springer and Cocker Spaniels and Labradors were often at the top of his list, too, and he looked for confident, outgoing and physically fit dogs. Some were scouted for farm or security work but many breeds have the potential to become part of the service dog programme.
Keith explained that Battersea recognizes that many of the dogs that eventually go to ‘service homes’ display behaviour that makes them unsuitable for a traditionally domestic home, and they need the stimulus of a happy working life. The benefits and rewards, for dogs and owners, are immeasurable so Battersea pick their service dogs as though they are choosing a candidate for a top job.
I told Keith my requirements, and he said: ‘We’ve actually just taken in a Springer Spaniel.’ Though the dog was only six months old, too young for our type of specialist training, I reckoned he was worth a look after Keith had explained he’d been through the normal ten or more sessions to assess his potential and been identified as a good candidate for service work.
‘When can we see him?’ I asked.
The next day, my colleague Greg and I climbed into a police van and drove along the motorway to Battersea Old Windsor. We got stuck in traffic, and a journey that should have taken just over an hour took three. When we arrived, Keith gave us a tour of the site and took us to the kennels. We passed a dozen dogs and arrived at the kennel with our candidate inside.
Herbie was bouncing up and down, itching to get out. Keith clipped on a lead and brought him over, then handed him to me. We went outside and headed to the training area in a large enclosed garden. By now, Herbie had stopped bouncing and was almost shy. He waited by my side and I could sense he felt a bit overwhelmed by all the sights and sounds. I wondered if he was too young for what we had in mind. The dogs needed a level of maturity and discipline to become the best possible police dog. Was Herbie cut out for the job?
Keith set up a search in an upstairs room by hiding a tennis ball while we waited in the garden. He called us up, then turned to Herbie. ‘Search.’
With that, Herbie was off, searching the boxes and cupboards at such speed, I wondered if he could possibly be doing a thorough job. He raced through the room like a whirlwind! But, sure enough, within a few minutes, he returned with a yellow tennis ball.
Greg’s and my eyebrows shot up. Herbie was clearly a star.
‘I think Herbie has great potential,’ I told Greg.
He nodded in agreement and we took a walk and chatted about the dog. We discussed his age and decided that, although it might go against him in training, he was still worth taking on, even if we ended up keeping him back until he was a year old and ready to train. I told Keith: ‘We’ll take him.’
A month later, in July 2013, I went to pick Herbie up. I drove to Old Windsor in my police-dog van and took Willis with me in one of the two cages in the back. When I arrived, whether or not he remembered me, Herbie seemed happy to see me. His eyes were bright and his tail was wagging at full speed. I loaded him into the cage next to Willis’s and the two were able to have a whiff of one another. I wouldn’t introduce them properly for a few weeks, instead letting them slowly familiarize themselves with each other. In that way, they could get used to their new dynamic before Herbie started his full training course. We wanted him to settle in a bit.
The first week was tough. Herbie was anxious and didn’t settle well at night: he howled and cried through the early hours. His kennel and Willis’s were in the garden: they were working dogs, and had to understand that when they entered a building they would do so to work and search. Also,
they would be safe outside in their kennel from anyone who happened across them by accident, and, of course, they needed somewhere of their own to relax and unwind.
Night after night, I ended up out there keeping Herbie company. I knew he was adapting to a new environment for the third time in his short life and it was a lot to get used to for such a young puppy. He began biting and chewing the bars on his kennel so I ‘Herbified’ everything with metal panels. I worried we’d made a mistake in picking him but hoped that, in time, he’d settle in. Willis didn’t seem to mind all the noise – he slept right through it.
During the day, I made friends with Herbie and tried extra hard to bond with him. We played games and I spent a lot of time with him, just the two of us. I desperately wanted Herbie to trust me and form with me the same special bond I had with Willis, and I knew from experience that the best way to achieve that was to play with him. I also knew that, ultimately, Herbie and any other specially trained dog wouldn’t work for me if they didn’t have that bond. It’s the bond that fuels the working world we’re in and dogs like Herbie want to please their mum or dad, get rewarded and be in that constant cycle of positivity.
So, I spent time with Herbie at home, playing with him, taking him out and giving him constant love and reassurance. When he messed on the floor I trained him to stop by rewarding his good behaviour, rather than telling him off.
After a month, Herbie had settled down, becoming less nervy, and we grew much closer. Pete came over and, together, we took Willis and Herbie to neutral ground – a cricket pitch nearby. We planned to do a controlled meeting and would break things up if they got out of hand. I had been a little apprehensive but Willis was brilliant. Pete and I sat down and started throwing balls to the dogs. While Pete focused on Willis, I took care of Herbie. Before long, the two dogs had forgotten about Pete and me and were chasing each other on the field. They got on brilliantly.
While they played, Pete and I chatted. I learnt that, in the past, our dog unit had taken on puppies but usually we placed them in training at twelve or fourteen months old. Herbie was seven months and I wondered when I should start training him. Given that he had settled in at home, we decided to get him started on the Specialist Search Dog Training Course, which allowed him to train with several things, including drugs.
Our initial sessions only reinforced the good signs we’d picked up weeks earlier at Battersea. Herbie had a strong drive to search which we tested by hiding his tennis ball in a room. He quickly figured out there was a game to be had, and that is essential for dogs in the police force. It’s the best way to train them.
Luckily for us, Herbie was very ball driven and flew through the course. As the training progressed, we tested his skill in identifying odours and trained him to sniff out drugs.
We started off on the one with the most potent smell – amphetamine.
Herbie was trained as a passive indicating dog: he would freeze and stare at the place where he detected the scent of the drugs, cash or firearms. This was so that he would not interfere with the substances when he found them, while also significantly reducing any risks to himself.
Herbie took to the process like a duck to water. Whenever he smelt the drug he was looking for, his eyebrows shot up, his tail began to wag and he’d let out a bark. If there had been a thought bubble above his head it would have read: Ooh! There’s that smell – and, ooh! Here’s my ball!
After that, we were able to drag the process out a bit so that Herbie learnt to sit and wait when he found something. He soon caught on. In a remarkably short time, he was able to identify heroin, ecstasy, cocaine and crack, as well as the original amphetamine, and was ready for his Home Office Assessment.
He passed with flying colours, which meant he was ready to be out on the streets getting his paws dirty.
Herbie was the youngest dog we’d ever brought on to Northamptonshire Police’s dog section, which had a sergeant, an inspector, two trainers and ten handlers like me. Time would tell how successful he would be.
On our first shift, as I stood ready in the police courtyard with Herbie, who was wearing a special harness to go out on a search, I had to pinch myself to believe I was really doing this for a living. Even after three years, it was still such a thrill.
As our van set off, Herbie was comfortably snoozing in the back, as was Willis. Both dogs came with me wherever I went when I was working, and while I was out with one dog, the other waited for his turn.
Herbie was a bit nervous when I put the siren on but he recognized quickly that the noisy thing on the roof meant he was going to do exciting things outside the van and he soon got used it.
He got into the swing of our shift patterns, and when I worked overtime, so did he. As long as that harness was on, Herbie was in work mode – professional, thorough and always paying full attention. He was the model employee.
Soon after, we were sent to search for drugs in a house linked with criminal activity.
Every inch of the place was crammed with rubbish and mess. I looked at it and thought: Where do I start looking? Using our training, we searched each room methodically. I knew if anything was there, Herbie would find it.
Every twenty minutes, we stopped for Herbie to take a break because that’s the amount of time it took for him to get nasal fatigue, which meant his breathing pattern changed, causing him to pant. This would make him less efficient and more likely to miss a substance he was searching for. After a walk round outside and a bit of time relaxing, Herbie was ready again.
He got stuck in and, later, indicated there was something by the fireplace, which was filled with ash. On top of the ash was a burnt purse: Herbie flicked it on to the floor and indicated again.
I rewarded him with his ball but wondered if he was just playing with me. When I began looking through the purse, I gasped. Hidden inside, I found six wraps of heroin.
Next, Herbie indicated on the grate, sending a cloud of ash into the air with his snout. I rewarded him again, and began sifting through the ash while on my hands and knees.
Herbie had this look on his face that said: Keep digging, go on, it’s in there!
Sure enough, I found more heroin wraps. I pulled out so many that it was like panning for gold! In the end I counted fifty. It was a phenomenal find for Herbie over four hours. I knew I was biased about what a wonderful dog he was but I was bursting with pride. Herbie was turning out to be an excellent police dog.
That wasn’t his only successful search. We trained him up to find firearms and cash, and this year alone, he has been part of some of the biggest cash seizures our dog section has ever seen. So far, Herbie’s biggest finds have included £50,000, £100,000 and £33,000 cash, along with 2.5 kilos of Class A drugs, all linked to an organized-crime group. There were times when he would even sniff out a single ten-pound note. I was amazed at how accurate his skills were. Training him so young was not an issue.
As soon as we returned home and Herbie’s harness came off, he was just like any other dog. He and Willis chased each other around the garden, dug up all my plants and made a complete mess. Despite our close working relationship, Herbie had some trouble learning to trust me. He was hand-shy: if I went to stroke him and caught him off guard, he’d cower away from me or pee. I could see that, deep down, he was a delicate, sensitive soul, and whatever had happened to him before he’d gone to Battersea had left an emotional mark on him.
His previous owners had documented behaviour problems, and at Battersea, Herbie had initially been a little submissive, which isn’t unusual for a dog in a new environment with unfamiliar noise, people and loads of other dogs. That was why I made sure that all the training for work was done away from home. I wanted Herbie to understand that when he came home it was time for love, play and cuddles.
I was gentle with him when I needed to be and spent time getting to know him and helping him forge a friendship with Willis. At the weekends, I took them both down to the river for a walk near our home in Northamptonshire and the
y’d dive in and have a swim before finding and soaking me. Then they’d charge off together round the countryside.
Being around Willis, who loved and trusted me unconditionally, definitely helped Herbie: he became more confident around me. He no longer jumped when I went to stroke him or moved suddenly. That wasn’t the only change I saw in our little family: Willis became more playful and seemed to have taken on a new lease of life with his friend around.
I don’t think Herbie will ever be a bold dog but he was born to work. I can work with him all day long, like a Duracell bunny, and he loves the job. Yet he comes home, stands in my flowerbeds, barks at cats and, despite failing miserably, still believes he will one day catch a squirrel.
Herbie and Willis are happy, silly souls at home, and Herbie has come out of his shell. Like many Springers, he’s a real live wire. He has boundless energy, and I’ve nicknamed him Herbie the Hooligan. He’s always digging things up, generally doing naughty things and egging Willis on. They’re crackers sometimes. I watch them wrestling over a toy and think, Are they really police dogs?
Hours later, they’re out doing serious police work to the highest standard.
But their world is simple. Love, work, play.
Herbie’s life is a bit of a modern day fairy tale. He ended up at Battersea when he was just a few months old and he needed a home. His knight in shining armour – Keith – tapped into his skills, and now Herbie is a successful operational police dog, with a loving home, a mum and a brother.
For Herbie, this is his happily ever after.
Recruiting
I sat at my desk at work and sighed with frustration. It was my job as custodial manager for the dog section to supervise the handlers, control the budget and find new dogs to join our team – but it wasn’t always easy recruiting them.
I was on the lookout for dogs that wanted to be doing something all the time. They were the ones that did not make ideal pets and often misbehaved. I’d learnt over the years to look for the hooligans that nobody else wanted – the Springer Spaniel that had destroyed a three-seater sofa in a matter of hours, the German Shepherd that had ripped up thirty square metres of carpet in a day. Those were the dogs I looked for because, often, they were perfect for service dog roles.
Christmas at Battersea: True Stories of Miracles and Hope Page 9
