do.”
“Then if they find other smells when they search,” Bosworth continued, “they’ll know if those smells belong in the landscape or not.”
“You’d make a good search dog handler,” I said.
After another minute, I whistled, and Spot turned to look at me. He was fifty yards away. Whatever he was investigating was much more interesting than what I had to offer.
“C’mon, boy,” I called out.
Spot looked toward me for a moment more, then went back to sniffing the dirt. Next, he trotted over to sniff along a fence.
“Spot, come,” I shouted, wishing that just once he’d act like a class valedictorian and do exactly as I asked.
Spot ignored me.
“You want a treat?”
Spot lifted up his head and looked.
I patted the cargo pocket of my pants where I keep treats, pulled one out and held it up.
Spot broke into a run, charged up, then did a quick stop. He sniffed at my hand. I tore off the wrapper and gave him half.
Spot inhaled it, then sniffed at my hand, which was holding the other half of the biscuit.
“It’s all about food, huh?” Bosworth said.
“It’s always all about food,” I said.
“I’ve got a friend who’s a K-nine handler with the Washoe Sheriff’s Office. He has a German Shepherd. That dog will do anything my buddy asks.” Bosworth sounded boastful. “Never gives the dog a treat until the very end.”
“That’s the difference between a Great Dane and a German Shepherd,” I said. “When it comes to getting paid, Danes are like smart businessmen. They have the sense to demand a fifty percent deposit up front and the balance immediately on completion.”
“That’s another joke,” Bosworth said, sounding unsure.
I turned to Spot. “Okay, boy, you want the rest of your treat, you gotta provide service.” I took his collar with my left hand and walked him to the truck. “You and I are just going to do a little look/see on this truck.” I walked Spot counterclockwise along the side of the truck, holding his collar with a loose arm so he could move his head. I didn’t want to let go because he would probably run away.
Bosworth spoke up. “Is there, like, a command for, ‘Inspect the truck for contraband?’”
“Probably your K-nine handler has one. But I doubt it would work on a Great Dane.”
“Because of his rigorous business standards,” Bosworth said.
“You got it,” I said.
We got to the rear corner of the truck and turned to go across the back.
Bosworth followed. “Do German Shepherds have better noses or something?”
“Nope. Same nose. Different work standards.”
Spot sniffed here and there but mostly was indifferent. We rounded the next corner and went back up the far side of the truck. When we’d gone around the front, I opened the passenger door. “Look up here, Spot.” I tapped the edge of the seat.
Spot looked at me, then looked at the ground.
“Spot.” I pointed. “Here.” I reached down, picked up one of his paws, and set it on the door sill. Spot raised his other paw to the sill. Looked around. “Now put your paws up here.” I patted the seat and lifted one of his paws.
He pushed up and got his paws on the edge of the seat. The truck’s cab was high. But when Spot stands on his rear legs, he’s seven feet tall. I pointed into the cab. Spot stretched his head out, sniffing the dash, the video screen, the seat, the floor mat.
“Anything in particular you’re expecting to find?” Bosworth said from behind me. He sounded concerned.
“No. What I’m looking for is any sense that there is a smell out of the ordinary, in this case meaning smells that don’t usually fit with a vehicle, or smells in this general area that don’t fit with what he’s already learned are the standard smells in this part of Sparks. All dogs automatically pay attention to unusual smells. It’s in their nature.”
Spot had shown no interest, so we backed down and away from the cab. I shut the door.
“Is he trained at this?” Bosworth
“Then if they find other smells when they search,” Bosworth continued, “they’ll know if those smells belong in the landscape or not.”
“You’d make a good search dog handler,” I said.
After another minute, I whistled, and Spot turned to look at me. He was fifty yards away. Whatever he was investigating was much more interesting than what I had to offer.
“C’mon, boy,” I called out.
Spot looked toward me for a moment more, then went back to sniffing the dirt. Next, he trotted over to sniff along a fence.
“Spot, come,” I shouted, wishing that just once he’d act like a class valedictorian and do exactly as I asked.
Spot ignored me.
“You want a treat?”
Spot lifted up his head and looked.
I patted the cargo pocket of my pants where I keep treats, pulled one out and held it up.
Spot broke into a run, charged up, then did a quick stop. He sniffed at my hand. I tore off the wrapper and gave him half.
Spot inhaled it, then sniffed at my hand, which was holding the other half of the biscuit.
“It’s all about food, huh?” Bosworth said.
“It’s always all about food,” I said.
“I’ve got a friend who’s a K-nine handler with the Washoe Sheriff’s Office. He has a German Shepherd. That dog will do anything my buddy asks.” Bosworth sounded boastful. “Never gives the dog a treat until the very end.”
“That’s the difference between a Great Dane and a German Shepherd,” I said. “When it comes to getting paid, Danes are like smart businessmen. They have the sense to demand a fifty percent deposit up front and the balance immediately on completion.”
“That’s another joke,” Bosworth said, sounding unsure.
I turned to Spot. “Okay, boy, you want the rest of your treat, you gotta provide service.” I took his collar with my left hand and walked him to the truck. “You and I are just going to do a little look/see on this truck.” I walked Spot counterclockwise along the side of the truck, holding his collar with a loose arm so he could move his head. I didn’t want to let go because he would probably run away.
Bosworth spoke up. “Is there, like, a command for, ‘Inspect the truck for contraband?’”
“Probably your K-nine handler has one. But I doubt it would work on a Great Dane.”
“Because of his rigorous business standards,” Bosworth said.
“You got it,” I said.
We got to the rear corner of the truck and turned to go across the back.
Bosworth followed. “Do German Shepherds have better noses or something?”
“Nope. Same nose. Different work standards.”
Spot sniffed here and there but mostly was indifferent. We rounded the next corner and went back up the far side of the truck. When we’d gone around the front, I opened the passenger door. “Look up here, Spot.” I tapped the edge of the seat.
Spot looked at me, then looked at the ground.
“Spot.” I pointed. “Here.” I reached down, picked up one of his paws, and set it on the door sill. Spot raised his other paw to the sill. Looked around. “Now put your paws up here.” I patted the seat and lifted one of his paws.
He pushed up and got his paws on the edge of the seat. The truck’s cab was high. But when Spot stands on his rear legs, he’s seven feet tall. I pointed into the cab. Spot stretched his head out, sniffing the dash, the video screen, the seat, the floor mat.
“Anything in particular you’re expecting to find?” Bosworth said from behind me. He sounded concerned.
“No. What I’m looking for is any sense that there is a smell out of the ordinary, in this case meaning smells that don’t usually fit with a vehicle, or smells in this general area that don’t fit with what he’s already learned are the standard smells in this part of Sparks. All dogs automatically pay attention to unusual smells. It’s in their nature.”
Spot had shown no interest, so we backed down and away from the cab. I shut the door.
“Is he trained at this?” Bosworth
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