The pair of four-month-old Belgian Malinoises, born on New Year’s Eve, came running on Yardley’s command. They were rangy and lean, like a pair of teenagers. Of the six, Yardley had determined that these two had the most drive and intelligence for law enforcement work. Taggart, her senior trainer, had chosen two of the others. The final two had been adopted by law enforcement personnel looking for companions for their working K-9s.
“Sitz.” They dropped butt, all rapt attention as two pairs of serious intelligent dark eyes in black-masked faces gazed adoringly up at her. Their ears stood tall and wide, revolving like satellite dishes. Too big for their heads now, but the dogs would grow into them.
Smiling, Yardley waved the ball launcher, a long plastic wand with a tennis ball attached at the end, under their noses. And then she began walking. “Hier.”
Eager to earn the ball, they followed her, watching the ball’s every movement as she made slow sweeps through the air. As she passed a picnic table she raised the wand up so that the ball traveled over the top. “Hopp.”
Both puppies jumped up on the table, eager to follow the reward they knew would come at the end of the game. Much of early training for potential K-9s was about helping the pups overcome natural fears of leaping, balancing on unfamiliar surfaces, and hesitations with new things so that they gained the confidence to try new things if their handler was telling them to do something. Practicing balance and agility gave them both. Soon they would learn to go into dark places, climb ladders, and force entry through a doorway. But for today, they were building muscle memory and getting exercise.
As she moved on, they leaped off the table after her, their natural athleticism showing in their fearlessness launching themselves from the height. She jogged quickly over to the wooden railing of the deck attached to the classroom building. As she lifted the ball wand up, Storm and Thunder jumped for the narrow railing on top. Storm made the leap easily. Thunder had to scramble a bit to keep his footing. Encouraged by the moving ball, they stepped cautiously along the two-by-four, like tightrope walkers on a high wire. Yet they both jumped off this higher perch without hesitation.
Yardley went back to the beginning and repeated the skill until they both were jumping and balancing unhesitatingly on the rail. Another lesson learned.
“Gute Hunds!” Her pride sounded in her voice, high and girlish as she bent to love on them. The puppy pair were pretty happy with themselves, barking and wagging tails. They had already learned not to leap on a handler.
After a moment, she held up the ball launcher again. Both puppies came to immediate attention and sat, dark eyes fixated. Thunder was the first to notice that Yardley had pulled a second ball from her pocket. He glanced at her and barked.
Laughing, she reared back and launched both balls into the air. The brother and sister’s heads snapped, their bodies doing a little dance of coiled energy. But neither chased after the balls.
When the balls had bounced in the thick spring-green grass Yardley cried, “In ordnung.” Okay, they were free to play.
The pair took off like they’d been shot from a cannon.
Both were very eager to learn, and came with a natural drive to please. Storm was a bit more courageous than Thunder at this stage. But Thunder would develop the slight advantage of male weight and size as they continued to grow.
Yardley grinned as she watched the pair. Her first breeding project was a success.
“Here you go, boss.”
Yardley turned to find Taggart coming toward her with Oleg on the leash.
Her expression went serious as she watched the Czech wolfdog approach. Nothing in his stride gave away the surgeries he’d been through to repair damage after he’d been shot.
Taggart saw her frown and smiled a big toothy grin. “Stop worrying. He’s doing real good, Yard. I got him up on the tires and then jumping the bales. He’s leaping like a champion.”
Oleg came bounding up to her, a friendly growl issuing from him.
“Thanks, Taggart.” She took Oleg’s leash and squatted down to scratch him softly. Oleg offered her licks in return. They’d become more than handler and K-9. They’d become a team. But she wanted to be certain her affection for Oleg wasn’t clouding her judgment about his abilities. She needed to be sure he could do the things she thought he could.
When Kye had delivered him to the vet four months ago, Oleg had been in critical condition due to trauma, blood loss, and exposure. He’d taken only one of the two shots aimed his way. Miraculously, the bullet had struck his ear first, tearing a hole in it before entering his right hindquarter. It tore some muscle, but the penetration hadn’t gone deep or shattered bone. He’d had surgery that night and again in the morning to repair the damage. Then came the weeklong wait to see if he would develop an infection. But the Czech wolfdog rallied, getting back on his feet faster than anyone expected.
Now all that was left of Oleg’s experience was a torn ear and a tail that tended to lean to one side where a nerve had been damaged.
“Good news, boss. The sheriff called to say the court decision has come in. Oleg’s in the clear.”